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I

LETTERS

ON

FEMALE CHARACTER,

ADDRESSED TO

& ¥OtW0 2UtT£,

DEATH OF HER MOTHER

BY MRS. VIRGINIA CARY.

Let others fly to pleasure's distant dome ;

Be mine the dearer task to please at home.

HALEY'S Triumphs of Temper.
! Thy husband shall have rule over thee." Gen. iii. 16.
1 The price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies." Prov. xxxi. 10.
1 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain : but a woman that feareth the Lord,
s shall be praised." Prov. xxxi. 30.

SECOND EDITION-ENLARGED,

125523

PUBLISHED BY ARIEL WORKS.

PHILADELPHIA TOWAK, J. & P. M. HOGAN.

1830.

Eastern District of Virginia, to wit :

Be it remembered, that on the fourth day of January, in the
fifty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of
America, Ariel Works, of the said district, hath deposited in this
office, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as proprietor,
in the words following-, to wit :

" Letters on Female Character, addressed to a Young Lady, on
the Death of her Mother. By Mrs. Virginia Cary.

'Let others fly to pleasure's distant dome,
• Be mine the dearer task to please at home.'

Ealeifs Triumphs of Temper.
;Thy husband shall have rule over thee.' Gen. iii. 16.
' The price of a viri uous woman is far above rubies.' Prov. xxxi. 10.
'Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feaieth the Lord,
she shall be praised.' Prov. xxxi. 30.

Second Edition — Enlarged."

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States,
entitled " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing
the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and
Proprietors of such copies, during the time therein mentioned."

RD. JEFFRIES,
Clerk of the Eastern District of Virginia.

&,&■■•■ A CARD-

The reader is requested to bear in mind, that the
little work here offered for perusal, was undertaken
at the particular request of some Christian friends,
who proposed " Bennett's Letters," as a general
model to the author. In consequence of this limita-
tion in her plan, she has given some sketches of
character illustrative of her precepts, after the manner
of Dr. B. These are drawn from a general, and not an
individual acquaintance with human nature *, and
many of the most striking warnings are derived from
the author's own experience of the evils inherent in
her own nature. In no single instance has she drawn
a real likeness in all its parts, from any living example,
though she has sketched traits of character which
are common to many persons of her acquaintance.

She gives this little explanation in consequence of
her having been told by censorious people, that her
characters bore so strong a resemblance to persons of
their acquaintance, that they were convinced she
meant to hold them up to public contempt. None
could have cast this imputation but those utterly
unacquainted with the author's real character, or
her true motives in writing this work ; and she is con-
vinced, that those capable of appreciating motives of
Christian duty, and a desire for Christian usefulness,
will acquit her of so odious a charge.

125523

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2011 with funding from
Duke University Libraries

http://www.archive.org/details/lettersonfemalecOOcary

DEDICATION.

The Second Edition of "Letters on Female
Character," is respectfully dedicated to the Rev.
Stephen Taylor, Pastor of the Presbyterian
Church on Shochoe Hill, in the City of Richmond.

The author takes this method of evincing her
grateful sense of the disinterested support awarded
to her by Mr. Taylor, under circumstances of pecu-
liar delicacy and embarrassment. Whilst those
from whom she expected encouragement in her
humble effort at Christian usefulness, shrunk from
the smallest testimony of approbation, Mr. Taylor
soothed her timid embarrassment by avowing a full
appreciation of her motives, and a cordial approval
of her undertaking. In other words, he encouraged
the poor widow to drop her two mites into the
treasury of the Lord, instead of scorning so poor an
offering.

The " Letters" are considerably altered and
enlarged, and the author humbly trusts they will be
found rather more worthy of the public attention than
the first edition. She has not proceeded without
deep and prayerful consideration of her subject,
neither has she thus intruded herself on the public
A2

vi DEDICATION.

attention without satisfactory evidence that this
particular path of duty has been chosen for her by
Him who makes use of all his creatures as seemeth
good unto him. She dares not withhold her one
talent at a time when so much is doing, and so much
is to be done for the cause supremely dear to her
heart, lest it should be taken from her and given to
him who hath ten talents.

CONTENTS.

Introduction, -.- - . - .- - - - ix

LETTER I.
Consolations of Religion, 13

LETTER II.
Piety Indispensable to Females, 19

LETTER III.
Female Piety Exemplified in the Characters of a Mother
and Daughter, --- 26

LETTER IV.
Definition of Charity, 33

LETTER V.

Women defended from the charge of Instability, 40

LETTER VI.
Danger of associating" with amiable Females who are without
Religion, 51

LETTER VII.
Mistakes in Religion, 56

LETTER VIII.
Influence of Religion on the Temper, .... 63

LETTER IX.

Exemplifications of Good and Bad Temper, 72

LETTER X.
False Sensibility Exemplified, 81

LETTER XI.
Picture of Domestic Happiness, 88

LETTER XII.
On Dress, ---------94

LETTER XIII.
Promiscuous Dancing" Assemblies, 103

yiii CONTENTS.

LETTER XIV.
On Dramatic Representations, 114

LETTER XV.
On Prayer, 120

LETTER XVI.
On Economy, 125

LETTER XVII.
Importance of Little Thir.g-s, 131

LETTER XVIII.
Sabbath Privileges, 135

LETTER XIX.
On Conformity of Manners to the Period of Life which we are
Passing-, 140

LETTER XX.
On The Distribution of Time, 145

LETTER XXI.

Manners, the Result of Intellectual Cultivation, - - 151

LETTER XXII.
On Friendship, 160

LETTER XXIII.
On Romance and Poetry, 167

LETTER XXIV.
Self-Deception Exemplified, 175

LETTER XXV.

Female Attainments in Science and Literature, - - 183

LETTER XXVI.
Misery of Discordant Marriages, - 188

LETTER XXVII.
Prevailing Errors in Female Education, - 196

LETTER XXVIII.
Domestic Management, 202

LETTER XXIX.
Submission to the Divine Will, 209

LETTER XXX.
Conclusion, 215

INTRODUCTION.

In this age of intellectual improvement, women have been
admitted to a liberal participation of intellectual privileges.
The lights of science and knowledge have been suffered to
penetrate the night of ignorance, in which custom and
prejudice had enveloped the female mind. There exists
no longer that watchful jealousy of every step towards
emancipation, which once made man the tyrant and op-
pressor of his feminine coadjutor. Women hold their
appropriate station in the scale of being, without contention.
They are allowed to mingle freely in the minor concerns
of the social compact, and have full scope afforded to their
latent energies. Their minds are no longer cramped by
rigid, domestic discipline, but soar above the narrow limits
of family avocations, and catch a glimpse of those lights
hitherto reserved for their master spirits. The consequences
of this partial illumination, are fraught with beneficial
effects to social life. Man has truly a help meet, and woman
is fulfilling her destiny according to the original design of
her Maker.

But these advantages are liable to abuse, from those
erring spirits, who grasp at more than their allotted portion
of power. Some aspiring females are not content to retain
any vestige of subordination to the anointed lords of the
creation. They aim at equality of rights ; in other words,
at absolute dominion : for it will be found, that whenever
man consents to this illegal usurpation of equal privileges,
he inevitably prepares himself for yielding, and his compa-

X INTRODUCTION.

nion for asserting, despotic authority. Let us refer to such
individual instances of a struggle for supremacy, as may
have fallen under our observation, for the truth of this
assertion. But when woman breaks down the barrier erected
by Omnipotence around her, she renders herself liable to
the full penalty of God's violated law. She was formed for
man, and therefore must continue in contented subordina-
tion to his authority. As she was first in the transgression,
it is additionally incumbent on her to make up to man, by
dutiful obedience, for the evil she has occasioned him. It
was for her oflVnce that he was banished from his home of
bliss. This thought should cast down her high aspirations,
and stimulate her to endure contentedly a lot which is
sweetened by many mercies.

That man is capable of exalted respect and affection for
his female companion, is clearly exemplified in the history
of our first parents. " The woman tempted me, and I did
eat," was Adam's excuse for disobedience; it is therefore
plain, that man was intuitively impressed with a high idea
of the importance of his helpmeet. The Lord implanted
this feeling in his nature, as a guarantee for the safety of
the weaker sex. Man still retains this sense of regard and
respectful observance, in all nations where God is wor-
shipped. Among the heathen, a contrary practice is well
known to predominate ; a strong evidence that woman owes
to her JMaker, the attention she receives from her partner
on earth.

In our happy country, the female sex are just beginning
to participate in the benefits of rapidly progressing refine-
ment. Education, such as deserves the name, is beginning
to draw forth the innate energies of the female mind. It
should be the object of all who really aim at moral improve-
ment, to assist in developing the faculties of so large a
portion of the human race. To train women for usefulness
is the object of the following little unpretending work. Ii*

INTRODUCTION. xj

it they will find their appropriate duties explained, and
their prevailing foibles noticed. They will find, it is to be
hoped, much to encourage them to virtuous exertion, and
little to stimulate that vanity which is said to be their
rightful inheritance. The rising generation are now under
female dominion. As the twig is bent in their hands, so
will the patriarch of the forest incline, when years have
spread his branches to the clouds. The peculiar difficulties
of our southern housewives, are taken into consideration
in the following pages, and a few hints offered to their
acceptance.

All the domestic arts admit of improvement from the
combined energy and ingenuity of female genius. When
it is considered how short a portion of a short life can
be devoted to the pursuit of pleasure, it is surely the part
of wisdom to dispense entirely with that disqualifying era,
that the mind may give its undivided energies to the cause
of virtue. If the female who peruses this page is a devotee
of fashion — a votary of pleasure, — I would here solemnly
inquire of her, in the name of her Maker and Redeemer,
what are her expectations in the life to come? When she
stands before the judgment seat, and lakes a hurried retro-
spect of past years, how will her present pursuits appear?
What benefit will then accrue from her triumphs of vanity ;
from her indulgences of sense; from the trifling, flippant
pursuits which have wasted precious time, and degraded
precious talents? Let her now pause, and reflect that she
can, by an instantaneous recantation of error, avert inevit-
able ruin. She can turn while it is to-day, and prepare for
that eternity which may, perchance, commence to morrow.
If this hint should arrest one wanderer from the path of
reason and rectitude, the author will have cause to pour
forth rejoicings for ever to him who condesecnds to aid the
feeble efforts of his creatures. The following anecdote will
suffice to close this brief notice.

Xii INTRODUCTION.

A votary of fashion once adorned herself splendidly for
a ball. On her way to the scene of folly, she was accosted
by a miserable object, who implored bread to keep him
from starvation. " I have no money," said the lady ; the
wretched creature passed on. At the ball, an intense pain
smote the temples of the young female, who was carried to
her bed in delirium. After a severe illness, she recovered to
a new state of feeling and thinking. She declared that during
her delirium she saw the beggar in Abraham's bosom, and
called to him for a drop of water to cool her parched tongue;
that he heard her cry, and came, bidding her beware lest
the gulf which could not be crossed, should open before he
came again.

LETTERS

ON

FEMALE CHARACTER.

LETTER I.

Consolations of Religion.

My Dear Mary,

Your present situation excites my keenest sympathy,
and awakens in my heart an earnest desire to do something
for you, that will prove my disinterested affection. The
loss you have sustained, by the removal of your beloved
mother to a better world, must always be severely felt, even
when time and resignation have subdued the violence of
natural grief. You will perhaps feel the want of her guid-
ance more, as you advance towards the busy season of life,
than in the helpless period of childhood. I will therefore
endeavour to set before you some of those precepts, by which
she formed a character of no ordinary worth and excellence.
She was, in the strictest sense of the word, a Christian, and
she expressed in her dying moments, a perfect resignation to
the will of Him, who had seen fit to deprive you of a monitor,
at the most critical season of life. " My friend," said she to
me, while her countenance already partook of the seraphic
expression of the disembodied saints — " my friend, to human
wisdom it might seem strange, that my child should be left
alone, when she will most need a mother's care ; but to me,
nothing is strange, that divine wisdom sees fit to dictate.
B

14 LETTER I.

Since it is His will, I leave her apparently without protec-
tion, secure in that unseen mercy that hovers over the forlorn
and destitute. I waste not a conjecture on her probable
destiny. I have too long trusted my Heavenly Parent, to
need further assurances of his unchangeable goodness. My
child is as safe under his protection, as if hosts of friends and
kindred were contending for the office of befriending the
orphan, when her mother shall have entered into heavenly
rest." — Never did I see a more beautiful exemplification of
the promise which she repeated with a smile of rapture, as
she breathed her last sigh — li I will keep him in perfect
peace, whose mind is stayed on me.'7 Yes, my dear Mary,
these were the last words of your sainted parent ; and it is
my earnest prayer, that you may be enabled to bind them as
a talisman to your heart, and make them the law of your
future life. Since, then, it has pleased a being of infinite
mercy, to remove your protectress from you, it becomes
your duty, or rather I will term it your privilege, to receive
the full assurance, that he will supply her place to you, in
such a time and manner as he may deem expedient.

You are not desolate, for Omnipotence itself is pledged to
protect you, and you have only to stand still, and see the
salvation of God. Let me entreat you, then, to begin in the
vernal season of life, to lav up stores for the future. Faith,
which is the fundamental requisite of true religion, grows
and strengthens gradually where it receives careful culture;
but it requires the utmost vigilance, and the most unceasing
attention, to nurture this essential grace, in a soil so repug-
nant to its growth as the human heart. You have already
professed Christianity, and surrendered your young heart
to its lawful possessor. This is one of the blessed results of
a religious education. But you have not now an evangelical
guide to pioneer the way for you, through the opening
labyrinth of human life. Much of your success in avoiding
the evils which abound in this region, will depend upon the

LETTER I. 15

degree of faith, which actuates your reliance upon heavenly
goodness. Many persons talk of their faith with compla-
cency, when its utmost extent is to elicit a belief in the
historical account of the Redeemer's birth, life, sufferings,
and death. But as for the faith which " purifies the heart,
works by love, and overcomes the world" — they know it
not, neither do they feel their deficiency. This faith, however,
is indispensable to true Christianity. You must not only
believe, but you must love the doctrines of our holy religion.
or its ways are not pleasant, or its paths peaceful. Unless
you make the laws of Christ }our ruling principles of action,
you will rise but slowly in Christian attainments. Many
professors do not even pretend to walk humbly with God,
or to keep themselves unspotted from the world. They
keep up external appearances, and attend- sedulously to
forms 5 but there is little of the vital spirit of Christianity in
these observances. The heart is still unchanged, and under
the direction of carnal motives. How few among these
nominal Christians, actually believe in the work of the Holy
Spirit ! And yet they talk volubly of their faith, as if to
make up for the deficiency within, by a redundance of words.
But trui. religion is an internal principle. It rules the heart,
and sends out from that seat of life and thought, the impulses
which direct the conduct. Our faith is sent to us from
heaven, as a messenger of love, to prepare us for ascending
to those blissful realms, when the disembodied spirit is free
from its tabernacle of dust.

God himself is the author of Christianity. He foretold it
from the time when the penalty of their transgression fell
upon our first parents. For upwards of four thousand years,
the world was in expectation of the coming Messiah, who at
length appeared in fulfilment of prophecy, and confirmed
his mission by miracles and signs, which continued until the
establishment of his doctrines among men. These doctrines
are pure from that alloy which attends, the best works of

16 LETTER I.

imperfect human wisdom : th§y are perfectly consistent, and
beautifully sublime! One decisive proof of their divine
origin is, that when once the mind of man is brought to study
and comprehend them, it rests fully satisfied with their
fitness and sufficiency. The precepts of this religion are
holy and just, and its laws were ratified by the blood of its
author. The worship of Christ as a saviour, is a spiritual
worship. His service is rational, and rendered practicable
by the helps that it affords to human weakness. This
religion was not introduced by power ; for it was the object
and aim of power to overthrow it. The world did not
establish it; for it was the declared enemy of the world, —
it despised its maxims, and condemned its enjoyments as
vain and empty. Christianity is not merely a rule of life,
though it presents the most perfect rule that the world ever
knew. Had mankind been in a state of innocence, such a
rule would have sufficed ; but fallen creatures must have
something besides the law which they have violated, to
subject them to restraint. The gospel, therefore, does not
afford a law for the innocent, but a means of salvation for
the guilty. It is suited to the exigencies of man in his fallen
state ; not to the requisitions of a guiltless and upright race
of creatures. The law is already violated. The gospel
brings salvation to those who have been guilty of this viola-
tion. It follows of cqurse, that no mere system of forms,
adopted from human motives, can reinstate a fallen race in
their primitive innocence. The religion which suits our
necessities, must be one which transforms the soul into the
image of its author, and makes us like minded with our great
pattern. In short, the heart, that is, the thinking and feel-
ing principle within us, must be changed; and nothing short
of omnipotent power can effect this miracle. It must be
clearly understood, that the change is to be radical ; the
heart is not improved, or added to, or new modified, but
changed; old things must pass away, and all things become

LETTER I. 17

new. According to the emphatic language of Scripture,
man must be born again. Surely this term would not be
used to imply an ordinary alteration of feeling or sentiment.
Some weak believers reject the expression, because they say
it means an impossible thing. But cannot the same Spirit,
which moved upon the face of the waters in the creation of
the world, move within the human heart, so as to bring order
out of chaos, and light out of darkness ? And how can
that thing be pronounced impossible, which happens every
day among the children of men ? Man becomes a new crea-
ture, by a total change in his will, his wishes, his hopes, his
actions. His will is brought into conformity with that of his
Heavenly Father. His wishes tend towards holy things.
His hopes soar to heaven. His actions are dictated by a
just and upright law, which is the governing impulse of his
renewed heart. What can be greater than the difference
between this man, and the same being who once followed
blindly the dictates of his own corrupt inclinations, desired
only carnal things, never thought of heaven, and acted
according to his own vile, earthly desires. It is plain, there-
fore, that the expression, " a new creature," is not figurative
or hyperbolical, but literal, — man is born again of the Spirit,
and becomes " a new creature." True religion, when it is
attained, soon proves itself by its fruits. God is not recog-
nised as an old master, but received by an entire dedication
to his service, as a new one. The homage rendered to him
is not external, but consists in an inward devotedness to his
will. Man is in a new state — a new condition. Instead of
following the world, he is to abjure it ; for as Christ overcame
the world himself, he expects his disciples to obtain the same
victory, and he has promised them strength sufficient for the
undertaking. It would not have been worth the Redeemer's
while to have suffered and died for us, if he was only to
procure us the meagre advantages resulting from a few
forms and ordinances. But he came to teach us precepts,
b 2

18 LETTER I.

which were illustrated by his own example, confirmed to us
by his death, and fully consummated by his resurrection.

It is a melancholy truth, that we see few instances of vital
religion in full exercise, among men. But this deficiency is
not occasioned by any imperfection in the principle itself:
it arises from the imperfect manner in which it is applied.
The task is difficult, and is therefore negligently performed.
Those who strive after true holiness of life, are represented
as enthusiasts, whose example may not, and should not be
emulated.

Another stumbling block to faith, is the difficulty of
admitting the doctrine of total depravity. Yet it is certain,
that Christianity can be based on no other doctrine. If man
is not corrupt by nature, he cannot require entire regeneration.
But, my dear girl, if you search your own heart faithfully,
young as it is, you will find the germ of human corruption
at its core. Man is not an imperfect, but a fallen creature ;
and unless he admits religion as a rectifying principle, the
disorders incident to his natural state, will gradually work
out his destruction. You must therefore believe implicitly
that you are a sinner, or you cannot receive Christ as your
Saviour. He does not undertake to reform, but to renew
your heart. Many people think they will do very well, with
a little amendment here and there, while they imagine some
parts of their old character are worth retaining. These
cannot surely expect to have the Redeemer as an aid in
these works of supererogation. There is no promise in
Scripture, from which they can derive such an expectation.
Thus it is, that so many persons who call themselves Chris-
tians, are disappointed in their hopes of amendment. They
go to work in a wrong manner, and do not begin at the
beginning. Is not it a palpable incongruity to suppose, that
he who came to save that which was lost, should set about
such a work by finishing what nature has begun ? You will,
perhaps, meet with people who will tell you, that it is im-

LETTER II. 19

peaching the mercy of God, to suppose that the beings
created by himself, should be depraved. I have heard this
argument loudly maintained by people, who have declared,
that man had far more good than evil in his nature. But,
alas ! this error is not of long continuance. Those who deny
the doctrine of total depravity, cast away the brightest
example of the mercy of God. They do not behold him as
we do, wonderfully preparing a system of salvation for
guilty rebels, which shall redeem them from everlasting
punishment, without compromising his own truth and justice.
This is indeed transcendent mercy ! The continuance of
favour to those who have not erred, is justice — not mercy.
But the pardon of guilty man, and the gift of love which
accompanies that pardon, is indeed angelic, heavenly, God-
like mercy. Angels themselves have not received such a
boon. They do not, in their bright mansions above, owe
half such a debt of gratitude to their sovereign, as the poor
frail beings who grope in darkness, in the dust of the earth !
I will here conclude this long epistle, my dear Mary,
hoping that neither its length nor its subject will deter you
from a careful perusal of its contents.

Believe me truly yours.

LETTER II.

Piety Indispensable to Females.

My Dear Mary,

In my first letter, I have explained to you the extreme
importance of religion to mankind collectively; I will now
proceed to examine this divine principle, as it applies to the
exigencies of the female sex. Women without religion are
to be found in every rank and station of society, and like
most other familiar objects, they pass before our eyes with-

20 LETTER II.

out notice or commentary. It is only when human nature
is scanned closely and strictly, that we become aware of
the secret sources of human strength or weakness. It is
only when we have learned to penetrate the motives of
action, that we can truly estimate the characters which are
daily enacting their several parts in the drama of life before
our eyes. When religion, the mightiest of all human attain-
ments, becomes the moving principle of the mind, as well as
the ruling impulse of the heart, a change comes over the
nature of man which effaces the impress of sordid mortality
stamped upon the fallen creature, and replaces that fearful
token by the seal of spiritual existence. It is then, that the
purified heart sends forth motives somewhat worthy of
immortal beings. Woman, the softest and the iceakest
portion of the majestic species of man, becomes more easily
and more thoroughly imbued with this spiritual essence.
Her actions show forth spontaneously the principle she has
attained; and perhaps the purest, if not the most substantial
fruits of regeneration, spring from the ductile nature of the
weaker sex.

Religion if not most manifest in feminine deportment, is
at least most necessary to enable women to perform their
allotted duties in life. The very nature of those duties
demands the strength of Christian principle to ensure their
correct and dignified performance; while the nature of
female trials, requires all the meliorating power of faith, to
induce a requisite measure of patience and fortitude./ Pride,
it is true, sometimes instigates a show of patient sufferance,
while the heart is riven with its own secret conflicts. How
often do we witness the gradual decay of females who are
extolled for their fortitude in affliction. Their minds,
unsupported by religion, struggle painfully to maintain out-
ward equanimity, while the inward canker is destroying
slowly but certainly, the very germ of vitality. But when
the truly feminine character, formed in gentleness, and

LETTER II. 21

nerved by Christian faith to suffer the will of her Father,
bows her head with meekness to his dispensations, she pre-
sents a picture, the moral sublimity of which is unequalled.
Woman without religion is a solecism in morals, a defor-
mity in social life. She resembles the dead oak to which
the verdant ivy still gives the appearance of freshness, as it
twines its flexible branches around the withered stem. The
unpractised eye mistakes the rich foliage of the vine, for the
appropriate tokens of vitality in the tree to which it clings.
There is life indeed, but it is not where life would be use-
ful and dignified ; it is only a growth of frivolous and unpro-
fitable decoration. Woman may look attractive at a distance,
as if all her characteristic requisites were in full vigour; but
approach her nearly, and you see a redundance of orna-
mental qualities, covering, like the unsubstantial ivy, the
sapless trunk, from which emanates no one substantial good ;
for the principle of life is wanting. Nay, I fear this simili-
tude may be carried still further; for the ornamental quali-
ties of irreligious females, too often resemble the ivy in its
poisonous qualities. Those who unwarily come in contact
with either, may have cause to rue an over hasty estimate of
external advantages.

It is no derogation from the dignity or utility of woman,
to declare that she is inferior to man in moral as well as
in physical strength. She has a different part to act, and
therefore she requires different qualities from the being who
has been pronounced her superior by the Almighty himself.
Woman was created avowedly to be the helpmeet, not the
ruler, nor yet the equal of man. Providence has allotted
her certain requisites for this station, which it should be the
object of education to strengthen and mature. It is much to
be regretted that custom should ever have been permitted
to violate this wise and merciful allotment of the Most
High, even experimentally. A condition, just subordinate to
that of man, is replete with usefulness and consistency;

22 LETTER II.

whereas in attempting to elevate the weaker sex to a station
which demands masculine strength, national as well as indi-
vidual misery have been produced. Look at the result of a
similar experiment in France before the revolution. It was
then said that women had attained their true and legimate
station of equality. Great expectations were entertained
from this unnatural and unholy exaltation of one half the
human species, above their proper level in society. Women
forsook their homes, for the strange and unhallowed pur-
suits of politics and intrigues of state. They fulminated
strange doctrines in the forum, while those sweet and sacred
duties so peculiarly feminine, were either wholly neglected,
or consigned to cold hearts and strange hands. They
exchanged the smiles of infancy and the prattle of child-
hood, the purest of earthly things, for the fierce turmoil and
withering excitement of political debate. Whilst they emu-
lated masculine supremacy, their children were corrupted
by dissolute menials, their domestic hearths forsaken, and
the social compact gradually dissolved ! What were the
consequences of this daring innovation of divinely estab-
lished order? Such as blacken the page of history, and
startle the thoughtful mind, even in another age and region.
Woman, whose most endearing qualities are nurtured in
the sacredness of domestic privacy, was seduced from her
home of peace, and sphere of unostentatious duties, and
exhibited to the contaminating gaze of a lawless multitude,
not to soothe the wild fervour of unnatural excitement, but
to increase the madness of the populace by her infuriated
declamation. Instead of quenching the deadly flame of
popular frenzy, she was made to hold the torch to the
funeral pile of national prosperity. May the world never
again behold such an example of perverted talents, and mis-
guided energy.

I know, my dear girl, that I am in danger of encountering
a host of female prejudices, when I venture unequivocally

LETTER II. 23

to recommend the doctrine of conjugal obedience even to
those who have been told by the Almighty himself, that
their husbands shall have rule over them. This is some-
what strange and contradictory ! that even professors of
religion should shrink from a gospel injunction, so plainly
expressed as to admit of but one interpretation. Human
ingenuity can devise no evasion of such an imperative man-
date ; but Christian submission can suggest many sweet and
sacred paliatives for what is rather an apparent than a real
evil. Power, my dear iMary, is one of the Molochs of this
world, and those who covet even a legitimate portion of it,
will be found to have taken a canker to their bosoms, when
they sought only to gather a blameless rose. The little
that falls to woman's lot in her appropriate sphere of
domestic superintendence, is often sufficient to overburden
both her heart and mind. It should never be forgotten that
the first of her species fell into the snares of the destroyer by
coveting that which almighty wisdom had denied her.
Had Eve been content with her allotted portion of the
blessings of a sinless state, she might have saved herself and
descendants the immitigable woes of their present condition.
But as the first woman was too weak to resist temptation, I
fear the disasters introduced by her dereliction of duly, have
rendered the sex still more fragile. They have undoubtedly
drawn upon themselves many penalties, like their original
mother, by coveting what providence never intended them
to possess.

Is it not time then, my clear Mary, for our ill-fated sex to
beware of those frailties which have already produced such
manifold evils ? Does not true wisdom, as well as true piety,
dictate a circumstantial obedience to the will of God as
revealed in his holy book ? A French writer has beauti-
fully complimented the sex, by designating them as that
part of the creation without which, the morning of life
would be destitute of succour, the noon without pleasure,

24 LETTER II.

and the evening without consolation. Surely this says
enough even for those who are most covetous of praise !

But in our happy country, there is at present little danger
of any overt violation of feminine propriety. The sex are,
it is true, somewhat endangered from other sources of
temptation, however; and I would fain put them on their
guard against all imaginable evils. Fashion, that Juggernaut
of great cities, misleads many of his thoughtless votaries
from the sweet path of duty and of safety. How many
victims are yearly crushed beneath the ponderous wheels of
his triumphal car! Alas, the various signs of this senseless
idolatry pervade every class of females ! Age is not exempt
from the awful taint of this soul-wasting folly. Youth often
carries the tokens of its disastrous influence to a premature
grave. How I must ever wonder at the perversion of taste,
not to say of principle, which leads so many women to burst
on the startled eye, in all the elaborate decorations sanctioned
by fashion. When I see delicate females staggering under
an immense superstructure of gause and wire, with vast
convolutions of many coloured ribbons, wrapped in gaudy
folds around a huge fabric, equally removed from beauty
and usefulness, I sigh for the stigma too sure to be attached
to the unlucky wearers. When I see evident marks of the
violence done to nature in repressing the exuberance of
youthful fulness, and watch the gradual waning of the hues
of health, once so redundant ; with these decisive tokens of
the victory accorded to fashion, before my eye, and the
shrunken form, completely subdued to the prescribed
standard by unnatural restriction, I sigh still more deeply.

All these expedients to attract notoriety are unworthy
of the female character. Women should shrink from the
public gaze, like the meek-eyed violet, and shed the incense
of their good works aiound, so as to mark the spot where
they bloom, in lowly retirement. These' are far more
attractive to the moj^l sense, as well as to refined taste,

LETTER II. 25

than the gay, gaudy frequenters of public amusements. As
some delicate hues fade in the sun, so do genuine female
attractions lose their lustre, when exposed to the glare of
publicity. The unchecked gaze of the world tarnishes, like
the meridian beam of a summer sun : she who has stood
before it, unabashed, has lost the freshness and delicacy of
feminine loveliness. It is far better that woman should be
sought in that retirement where her virtues are perfected,
than that she should be found in some conspicuous situation,
where the roving eye is attracted by the blaze of her out-
ward adornments. Meekness is not only an appropriate
feminine attribute, but a fundamental virtue of the female
character. Is it not strange, my dear Mary, that young
women who profess to receive the Scripture as the best
moral code, and to reverence it as the revealed will of God,
should yet violate its emphatic injunctions. How little
heed is given to the apostle's beautiful directions for female
apparel, by the very followers of gospel wisdom and truth ?
Read them often yourself, my dear girl, that there may be
at least one woman adorned according to the genuine taste
and propriety of scripture fashion.

I have been led to make these remarks, by a specimen
lately exhibited to me of an ultra fashionable female, whom
I will attempt to describe for your amusement.

Felicia was born of wealthy parents, who gave her a
showy and expensive education. From her infancy she was
instructed in those accomplishments which serve best for
exhibition. Her mind was cultivated only in its most
brilliant qualities ; every j)lebeian attainment was carefully
avoided, while fashion was sedulously inculcated as the first
requisite to female elegance — to move gracefully in a crowd
— to dance with pre-eminent effect before hundreds — to
converse with unabashed ease on every subject, and in
every possible situation — to assume the first place in all
company, and act as if not doubting that every one awarded
C

26 LETTER III.

the distinction to her — to exhibit her whole circle of accom-
plishments with ceaseless diligence, and to think all time
lost that was not spent in actual display, or in preparing
for exhibition.

Such was the education bestowed on Felicia, and you
will not think that I was surprised at its results. I found
her a thing of art, as far as artificial and affected manners
could merit such a term. She would have been handsome,
had not her demeanour claimed even more admiration than
she could elicit. She might have conversed agreeably, but
her talents were too showy to be pleasing, and her informa-
tion so decidedly selected for effect, that it failed to produce
any. In short, she showed the capacity of being attractive,
without exciting any feeling but that of compassion from an
audience whom she expected confidently to dazzle.

Adieu, for the present, my dear M.

LETTER III.

Female Fiety exemplified in the characters of a Mother
and Daughter.

My. Dear Mary,

Since I wrote last, both my feelings and taste have been
accidentally gratified, by a call at the house of a lady, whom
I shall call Emilia. She is a widow, who has devoted her-
self to the education of an only daughter. When 1 arrived
at the house, the friend who had insisted on procuring me
the pleasure of an introduction, politely requested permission
to make me known to Emilia. She received me with dig-
nified ease, and soon gave me that pleasant sensation, which
arises from social intercourse among the true followers of

. LETTER III. 27

the Redeemer: I fell into that sweet home feeling, which
opens all the sluices of human affection.

Emilia spoke of her daughter, as the friend and companion
from whose society she derived the greatest portion of her
happiness. While she was speaking with kindling features,
the subject of her discourse entered the room, having just
returned from visiting a sick neighbour. " This is my
daughter Emma," said Emilia, with an illuminated smile.
— My eyes fell upon a youthful form, of graceful size and
proportions, plainly apparelled, an d without the slightest
approach to artifice in her demeanour. Her features at
first appeared plain, but a smile diffused over them an irre-
sistible attraction. She was grave, however, and her coun-
tenance exhibited traces of recent emotion. She entered
into easy conversation, carefully falling into the subject se-
lected by her mother, without showing any desire to dictate
one of her own. In the course of a long morning's discourse,
she developed rich stores of intellectual wealth, but showed
no consciousness of the impression she was making on her
auditors. I exerted all my skill to draw her out, without
betraying my design, and succeeded in fathoming a mind of
no ordinary depth. The stream of literature had passed
over this mind, fertilizing the soil, without leaving any pool
for learning to stagnate in. There was moral beauty and
grace in her conceptions, while her thoughts flowed with a
freedom that betokened no small share of variety in her
mental treasures. Her moral sense appeared pure from the
slightest taint of worldly conformity. She had evidently
taken, at the age of seventeen, that good part which was not
to be taken from her ; and her thoughts were exalted far
beyond the impurities of earth. She seemed to pant after
opportunities to serve God, and yet to wait patiently his
own time, to call her forth in his service. The truths of
Christianity had been cemented with the fabric of her being,
so that out of Christ, she was nothing. All her energies

28 LETTER III.

were directed to his cause ; but they had evidently* been
hitherto employed in meliorating the condition of her own
heart. When she spoke of human depravity, you clearly
saw, that her own bosom had furnished sufficient evidences
of this fundamental doctrine of Scripture. Some people talk
awkwardly of sin, as if they would fain apply their ideas to
the world, and not to themselves. But Emma drew her pic-
ture of innate depravity from self conviction, and all her
arguments were practically deduced from self examination.
While she proved that man was by nature sinful, she proved
that grace could renew a right spirit within him. There
was a sweet persuasiveness in her language, that seemed
calculated to win souls to the Saviour. Her mother evidently
delighted in hearing her speak, and seemed to draw her out
more for her own gratification, than for the purposes of dis-
play. Emma never spoke, until she found that Emilia had
chosen silence as her part.

When the dinner hour approached, both mother and
daughter quitted the room, "on hospitable thoughts intent,"
like our first mother. My companion took this opportunity
to point cut to me, several lady-like works which adorned the
apartment. There were some beautiful landscapes finished
with taste and skill, and evidently taken from nature.
An oil painting of the parting of Hector and Andromache,
displayed uncommon excellence in the art, but my friend
informed me that Emma had applied herself to this branch
of painting a few years ago, when her mother's pecuniary
circumstances were embarrassed. " She then taught paint-
ing, by way of increasing her mother's income," said she,
" and when their difficulties were removed, she gave up this
arduous undertaking; at present she rarely has recourse to
her pencil, except to add to the funds of the Theological
Education Society." There were musical instruments also
in the apartment, and my companion assured me that Emma
touched them with skill and taste. " This accomplishment,"

LETTER III. 29

added she, u she learnt in compliance with her father's de-
sire; he languished many years in great bodily suffering,
and music was one of his principal gratifications."

As the dinner hour drew near, our party received an
agreeable accession from the entrance of the minister of the
parish. He soon told us that he had been detained at the
house of the same old neighbour, to whom Emma had paid
her morning visit. " She has taken her departure for a
better world,'' said he, " and O, what a blessed frame has
she departed in ! She blessed you, Miss Emma, with her
parting breath, and declared that she owed her conversion
from a state of heathen darkness, to your unwearied labours.
1 Oh!7 exclaimed she, 'had she left me in my obstinate
blindness, where now would have been my hopes? But she
came again and again, in faithful imitation of him, who went
about doing good ! She read the Scriptures and pointed out
their meaning, with benign goodness and perseverance, until
a blessing came from heaven upon her labours. Yes ! I
verily believe that my soul was granted to her prayers.' "
The tears stood in Emma's eyes, as she listened to this reci-
tal.— " I did but little for her," said she in a quivering voice.
" I only read to her, and explained my own views of Chris-
tianity. This appeared to me to be one of my most simple
duties: had I omitted it, my conscience would not have
suffered me to rest. Besides, I find myself so much edified
by attempting to instruct others, that this was not altogether
a disinterested duty."

" To you, Miss Emma," said the good minister, "it is
more than a duty, — it is a privilege. I would not speak
thus to your face, did I not know that you cannot be hurt
by a little honest praise. It is only those who prize enco-
miums, that are hurt by them. You have higher motives of
action, and cannot be injured by an assurance that you have
done good in your vocation."
c 2

30 LETTER III.

The eyes of Emilia glistened at this sincere and merited
eulogium on her daughter. I could see that she prized it far
more than she could have done personal praise. The
evening past in social enjoyment, and I learnt yet more of
the excellencies of both mother and daughter. It is Emilia's
rule always to adhere to strict moral and religious propriety
in her conversation. She keeps the spirit of religion always
in operation, so as to pervade whatever subject she or her
guests may wish to discuss. If the name is not mentioned,
the essence of Christianity is present in all her avocations
and amusements; it sheds a halo light around the social
circle. When night arrived, and the supper things were remo-
ved, the room was prepared for family worship ; the servants
entered, all comfortably and decently clad, with an air of
respectful attention, that was infinitely pleasing. I was
afterwards told that they were all instructed in the principles
of Christianity, and most of them professors of some standing.
Emma teaches them all to read, and explains their christian
duties to them ; so that in obeying their heavenly Master,
they perform all subordinate duties. " When we teach our
servants to serve God," says Emilia, " they serve us of
course, for obedience to their earthly master is one branch
of their duty to their heavenly King." It is always better
to give both children and servants a higher motive of action
than mere subservience to our will. When this duty is
involved in a more exalted one, there is a greater prospect
of its being duly performed. I have never seen slaves look
as they do in Emilia's family ; and I am told, that she has
the most moral and correct set in the country. This surely
proves the propriety of her management, for I have often
seen, in the houses of professors, miserable examples of
ignorance and vice among their slaves, while incessant com-
plaints of their ill conduct made up the sum of social dis-
course. It is, doubtless, an arduous part of christian duty,

LETTER III. 31

to train this unfortunate class of our fellow beings in the way
they should go; but it certainly must be a part of christian
duty , and yet how seldom is it ever undertaken in any way !
We hear complaints of our national misfortune, but see no
efforts made to meliorate our condition. Surely religion
demands and suggests some exertions in this obvious and
imperious department of social duty. Emilia has among
her dependants some characters who would not disgrace the
higher walks of life. When she is questioned on the subject,
she says, that she became aware early in life, that the ordi-
nary behaviour of these people would destroy her happiness.
She therefore set herself to arranging a method of manage-
ment, which would have a tendency to remove these evils.
" This method," said she, u I digested prayerfully, and if I
have succeeded in enforcing it, the Lord has been pleased
to bless my supplications, for I always knew the work was
too great for my feeble powers to accomplish, and I have
left it to Him who does all difficult things for his creatures.
I never omit to pray that God may give me good servants."
This method of obtaining so essential a blessing, struck
me as being dictated by an unusual degree of faith; and,
indeed, every thing I saw at Emilia's house, convinced
me of the efficacy of this divine principle, when in full
operation. Both mother and daughter impute every blessing
to omnipotent goodness* They have encountered many
troubles, the recollection of which seems to add to their
present thankful enjoyment of prosperity. Early in the
morning I rose and looked from my window, when, to my
surprise, I saw Emma, enveloped in a cloak, coming into
the house through a side door. A servant entering soon
after, I mentioned what I had seen, and inquired the
meaning of it. " Miss Emma sat up last night," answered
he, " with the dead body of the poor woman who died
yesterday. The family were all broke down with fatigue
in attending on her last illness, and her daughter, who is

22 LETTER III.

very delicate, was going to set up herself, but Miss Emma
would not suffer her, so she went over last night after
prayers, and returned by day this morning to get some rest
before morning worship." Accordingly the benevolent
Emma appeared soon after I entered the drawing room.
She looked pale, but made no complaints ; on the contrary,
her manner was unusually cheerful ; doubtless from the
prevalence of that spirit within her, which prompts deeds
of self-denial. I could not but amuse my secret thoughts
with drawing up a contrast between Emma and Felicia,
which was strongest precisely at that point of time ; for I
remembered calling at noon, after a ball, upon Felicia, and
being told by her mother, that she had not yet left her bed.
* She is such a dancer," said the mother with a complacent
smile, " that she gets fatigued to death at balls. Every
body of any note must dance with her, and she comes
home half dead from every dancing party. Its at least a
week before she can walk straight, and I promise you she
is cross enough at such seasons." This account was given
without a suspicion that it could make an unfavourable
impression upon me.

Let me entreat you, my dear Mary, to compare these
two characters carefully, and tell me which of the two you
wish to resemble ? I know that both your principles and
taste will lead you to make a right choice. But I am far
from wishing to confine you to an earthly model, when you
have the fulness of perfection set before you, in Him who
has commanded you to be perfect, even as he is perfect.
Yet 1 do not at all approve the sentiment which is often
exculpated by those who choose to entertain it, namely,
that it is wrong to look at any character with the desire of
imitation. If you see before you an example of practical
excellence, it may save you the labour of embodying in
your own mind the virtues to be copied. When you see,
cot only what good things may be done, but also how they

LETTER IV. 33

are done, you may set about them with greater confidence
of success. The next letter I address you, shall comprehend
charity as a practical virtue. May the grace of God incline
you fully to understand and practise it.

Ever yours.

LETTER IV.

Definition of Charity.

My Dear Mary,

It has been said of women, that the natural tenderness
of their hearts disposes them to practise without difficulty,
the duties of charity. 1 grant that some of the requisites
of this essential christian grace, may be prompted by
feminine softness, but there are others which require firm-
ness and magnanimity, such as rarely fall to the lot of
women. Take the apostle's definition along with you, and
you will soon comprehend my meaning. " Charity suffereth
long, and is kind — charity en-vieth not — charity vaunteth
not herself — is not puffed up — doth not behave itself
unseemly — seeketh not her own — is not easily provoked —
thinketh no evil — rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in
the truth — beareth all things — believeth all things — hopeth
all things — endureth all things." This is, indeed, a com-
prehensive grace, and one who can fully practise all its
requisitions, must be nearer the image of Christ than a
superficial observer would suppose.

In the first place, charity suffereth long. Can you, my
dear girl, ever hope to arrive at constancy in suffering?
Can you endure the persecution which I know you undergo
from some who call themselves your friends ? Do you never

34 LETTER IV.

forget the gentleness and equanimity that such a case calls
for ? Do you not only endure outwardly, but is your inward
aspiration, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do ?" Do you cheerfully perform offices of kindness
to your persecutors ? Do you never feel uneasy when you
view the superior attainments of others, so as to be restless
and discontented under their superiority ? Do you, on the
contrary, look up to them with cordial approbation and
admiration, loving the virtues which they practise, and
being content to feel your own inferiority? — then you have
the charity which envieth not. Are you content that your
good works should be seen by God alone ? Are you never
anxious to bring to light any favourite action, which might
redound to your praise ? Do you labour for the glory of
God alone; and is your heart so full of this object, that
your own profit, honour, or praise, never conflicts with
holier feelings ? — then your charity vaunteth not itself.
Do you feel humbled by a consciousness that you serve
your Master negligently, and in small measure, even when
most engaged in his cause ? Are you deeply abased when
you discover in your heart a feeling of self-complacency
under your good works? — then your charity is not puffed
up. If we feel rightly, our utmost exertions must fall
immeasurably short of our desires, so that we never can
think we have done enough, where so much remains
undone. Charity is always meek, and does not fall into
unseemly fits of passion or impatience. Charity does not
admit of a boisterous assumption of rights, but rather yields
what is really her due, than assumes all that can justly be
claimed. Charity is patient. No excess of persecution or
extremity of malice can provoke wrath in the mind of a
truly patient person. Charity thinketh no evil. Behold
the climax of this christian grace. It banishes suspicion.
It induces kindly feelings, and favourable judgments.
Instead of impeaching the conduct of others, it supposes

LETTER IV. 35

that all things are right while they appear so. If equivocal
circumstances lead the mind to suspicion, still charity
thinketh no evil ! It rejoices when truth prevails, and
delights to see mankind under its influence. Instead of
being pleased with the backslidings of fellow professors-,
charity mourns at every token of delinquency ; grieves over
each instance of spiritual declension, and rejoices when
righteousness and truth actuate the conduct of the people of
God. This virtue, when thus practised, comprehends much
of the sublime and beautiful of christian excellence. Emilia
lately disclosed an instance of her daughter's steadfastness
in the faith, which was truly pleasing. There was a
young person, who had manifested considerable jealousy
of Emma's success in life. She was a near relation, and
a fellow labourer in the good cause, though with motives
far less pure than those which actuated the zealous christian.
This person disturbed the meek and benign Emma, in
every plan which her charity could suggest. By open
rudeness, or secret thwartings, she impeded many of her
operations. Emma pursued her course steadily ; where
she was stopped in one path of duty, she turned without
murmuring to another. In vain did injudicious friends point
out to her with amplification, the errors of her relative.
With a charity determined not to think evil, or rejoice in
iniquity, she went on her course with caution and prudence,
avoiding all collision as much as possible, and yielding the
palm to her envious friend whenever she could. There
was to be a meeting of a sewing society, and Emma
he'^d that her opponent was determined to do something
mortifying to her on the occasion. She did not throw
herself into an attitude of defiance, but prayed fervently that
she might be guided aright in her conduct at this crisis.
She meekly bent to the storm, and gave up all that was
required; cheerfully taking a subordinate situation, and
making herself happy and active. This conduct disarmed

36 LETTER IV.

malice. She enjoyed the triumph of overcoming evil with
good ; and finally brought her half-hearted relative to
embrace religion firmly and consistenly. Many have been
the triumphs of her upright spirit over malice and envy.
At present she enjoys the happiness of being at peace with
all her fellow-labourers, and having their confidence in a
high degree. Emma was once advised not to admit a
captious, cavilling person, into some benevolent association
in which she was engaged. Her answer was, " I believe
she is sincere, and why should we deny her the opportunity
of amendment. If she comes among us, we will pray for
her, and endeavour to lead her aright; we ought not to
refuse even the little that she can do, where so much is
requisite to ensure success. Let us determine to bear with
her ; if we cannot teach her any good thing, she can teach
us patience, which is a lovely christian grace." In fact, the
lady in question was entirely reformed, and became a useful
member of the association.

It is melancholy to reflect, that good works cannot be
carried on in the social circle, without being impeded by the
leaven of human corruption. How often do we see much
energy wasted in fruitless efforts, because the spirit of discord
prevails, either openly, or in secret. The superficial observer
wonders that a blessing does not attend such active exertions ;
but the omniscient eye sees the impediment at the very core
of those hearts, which seek in vain to cover up their carnal
motives, instead of labouring to cast them out. God will
not prosper endeavours that are polluted by emulation or
envy. The true christian never thinks he can do enouf u in
his Master's cause. His eye is always fixed on the aggregate
sum of good works. If much has been done, he rejoices,
even when he knows that but a trifling portion of the good
was wrought by himself. It is enough for him, that the
cause is prospering. His heart rejoices in the piety and
zeal of others, and he is willing to follow at an humble dis-

LETTER IV. 37

tance, if his gifts are small, or his opportunities rare. But
many persons undertake good works with another spirit.
They long to make themselves conspicuous, and to have
great praise for their good deeds. Verily, they have their
reward in the breath of man's nostrils. They press forward,
and gather fame as they go, disputing at every step with
their fellow labourers. If they meet with any one whose
attainments are undoubtedly superior to theirs, they shrink
back, and will not unite with those who can eclipse them.
This is done too, with an air of mock-humility, as if they
really thought their own gifts contemptible. But the Lord
knoweth their hearts. He reads inordinate self-estimation
at the bottom of them, and turns away with disgust from
their empty professions. Why did the man who had but
one talent, refuse to put it to interest? Undoubtedly because
he envied him who had ten, and thought his own chance of
profit too small to be regarded.

One would think, that even carnal wisdom would suggest
to him who has but slender gifts, that his responsibility is
less, and his chance of escaping envy and malice, greater,
than if he was more conspicuously endowed. Those, whose
high intellectual endowments force them into responsible
stations, are fully sensible of the disadvantages accruing
to them. They would willingly hide their heads from
the storm that envy and malice raise with their tainted
breath, against the highly gifted of all denominations.
Notoriety has its accompanying evils, whatever the ambitious
may think, when they envy those who have made greater
attainments than themselves. God's people must endure
this evil if called forth in his service before the public eye,
but they certainly do not esteem it among their privileges.
While the ambitious aspirant is aiming at notoriety, the
humble christian " does good by stealth, and blushes to find
it fame." I have known charitable associations so disturbed
by a spirit of rivalry, as to be rendered almost nugatory.
D

38 LETTER IV.

I trust, my dear girl, that you will never suffer carnal motives
to mingle with your active exercises in the cause of religion.
I once knew a flourishing Sabbath School nearly broken up,
by the rivalry of its two heads; both were struggling for
supremacy, and neither would yield an iota to the other, for
the sake of the cause they professed to uphold. Another
school was seriously injured by the jealousy of the female
superintendent, who conceived that one of the teachers was
more popular than herself, and never was at rest, until she
succeeded in turning her out.

I could name other similar cases, but these few will suffice
for warnings, and the subject is too painful to dwell upon.
Those who have the glory of God at heart, will bear and
torbear for his sake; knowing that he appreciates the in-
ward motives of the heart, and not the outward seeming of
such as call themselves by his name. Many of our keenest
trials, arise from the conflicting tastes and inclinations of our
associates. Were it not for such lessons as these, we should
have no opportunity of acquiring patience and forberance,
two cf the most precious Christian virtues. If you have
only to yield to those, who in their turn yield to you, your
task is easy ; but if, when you have practised self denial to
the utmost length of your patience, you still find yourself
pressed upon, there is real merit in forbearing. All our
virtues are strengthened by exercise, and we are so little
practised in self-imposed restraints, that it is well for us when
our Heavenly Father sends occasions of discipline to us.
We are always children in his sight, and require the same
restrictions that we are wont to impose upon our own off-
spring. We are apt to have by nature, an overweening
sense of our own importance, which is too often strengthened
and magnified by the conversation we hear in the social
circle, from the earliest period of childhood. There is gene-
rally some little bickering among our connexions — some
small occasion of heart burning,— which we hear discussed

LETTER IV. 39

at large, with animadversions on the conduct of others, pretty
highly seasoned with inflammable ingredients. From these
occurrences we learn a good deal of the dignity of human
nature, and the requisite degree of retaliation admissible in
civil society. Pride is thus insensibly nurtured in the young
heart, to a degree that afterwards proves troublesome. We
retain a confused notion, that resistance to aggression is
allowable, if not praiseworthy. "Nobody ought to bear
so much — I declare, it is mean spirited — it is cowardly ; —
every one ought to cultivate proper pride." This jargon
confounds the minds of children, and they grow up with
undefined ideas, that pride is sometimes proper. Not being
furnished with an exact estimate of the legitimate quantity,
necessary to maintain the dignity of one's character, of course,
this allotment is left to the individual, who measures the
degree of proper pride by his own ideas of propriety : just
as much as he feels inclined to indulge, is, in his opinion, the
proper quantity.

But 1 might pursue this subject until I wearied you, dear
Mary, and I only wish to put you on your guard against the
too common mistakes of the age in which you live. There
can be no proper standard for Christian virtue, but the Bible;
and just so much pride as that directs you to assume, in your
intercourse with your fellow creatures, I will allow you to
practise. Self love abounds in subterfuges. Wounded pride
generally passes for sensibility. But how strangely is this
term perverted ! Look at that frowning brow ; mark those
swollen features; what is the source of those gushing tears ?
— Oh, my sensibility has been deeply wounded — my delicacy
is violated — I have been insulted, — strange charges are
brought against me, and faults laid at my door that I never
heard of before ; — but I will resent. Human nature can bear
no more; my dignity requires that I should resist such oppres-
sion, &c. — Is this sensibility ? — that feeling which melts at
the sorrows of others ? Alas, no ! it is a vile impostor. It

40 LETTER V.

is alive only to self. A touch wounds its sickly sensitiveness.
It is prompt to inflict pain, but shrinks from enduring it. It
defends itself before it is attacked, and resents insults before
they have been offered. To suspect it of imperfection, is
to awaken its violenee. How different from the benign
grace it would pass for ! that gentleness of feeling which
emanates from the divine principle of love.

May you, my dear girl, have the true Christian virtue
implanted in your renewed heart.

I am ever yours.

LETTER V.

Women Defended from the Charge of Instability .

My Dear Mary,

It has been said by writers who have pretended to com-
prehend the female heart, that "woman is as unstable as
water, and therefore cannot excel." It is true that caprice
is one of the many foibles belonging to weak people, what-
ever may be their sex and age ; but the fair impartial page
of history furnishes examples of exalted fortitude and per-
severing constancy in strong minded women.

In the first place, I hold education to be as powerful as
the fairy spells were anciently supposed to be, in bestowing
mental gifts, or, I should rather say, in forming rational
habits.

It too often happens, since women are admitted to the pri-
vilege of education, that some disproportion arises between
the different faculties of their minds, in consequence of a
defective method of cultivation. One power of the mind cer-
tainly may be cultivated at the expense of another; as we see
that one muscle or limb may acquire excessive strength or

LETTER V. 41

undue size at the expense of the health of the whole body.
This is seldom advantageous either to the individual or to
society. It is said, that the inhabitants of the mountainous
regions of Switzerland, are vain of an excrescence by which
they are deformed ; and I Jiave known females in like man-
ner to be vain of exhibiting mental deformities. Caprice has
been esteemed a grace in the female character by some
unaccountable admirer of mental obliquity. I have known
mothers to encourage in their daughters something extremely
like this cameleon quality, from an exceeding desire to
excite the admiration of nice critics in female character. It
does, indeed, seem that there exists an insuperable difficulty
in the education of females, and their passage through life,
which renders it impossible that their minds should ever
acquire that vigour and efficiency which accurate know-
ledge, and the varied experience of life, alone can give. I
allude to the peculiar tastes of those who are appointed as
umpires, when the subject of female attractions is under
discussion. As long as the gentlemen continue to admire
frivolity, it will be difficult to establish a rational system of
female education. Precisely those qualities which are most
unfavourable to feminine consistency and stability, are often
the exclusive objects of masculine admiration and applause.
This, then, is the true reason why women are deficient in
strength of character, and why they afford so few proofs of
solid utility. Another cause of this characteristic defect
may be, that females are expected to acquire many light and
graceful accomplishments, which take up much of the time
appropriated to education. Between persons of equal
genius and equal industry, time becomes the only measure
of their acquirements. Now if you calculate the hours
necessary to attain tolerable proficiency in any light accom-
plishment, and subtract them from the period allotted to
female education, you will see plainly, that those who have
h2

42 LETTER V.

most feminine accomplishments, must have been restricted
in the opportunity of acquiring solid information.

If we were to allow a natural equality between male and
female intellect, still the situation of women in society, the
short period allotted to education, the light pursuits to
which custom and fashion have addicted them, and many
other circumstances too tedious to detail, must all concur to
prevent their attaining any thing like an equality in solid
information.

Besides this, women are necessarily confined to a sort of
monotonous seclusion, while men mix with the world with-
out restraint ; associating freely with every variety of charac-
ter, and expatiating on every scene in life which lies open to
their view. Thus they acquire a diversity of thought,
and a depth of experience in men and things, of which
women are wholly destitute. I make these remarks to show
the utter futility of aiming at an equality between the sexes,
which neither nature nor education have rendered admis-
sible. It is a palpable truism, that no woman can be happy
or respectable in society who does not preserve the peculiar
virtues of her sex ; and it is to be feared that those who emu-
late the stronger sex in mental attainments, will make ship-
wreck of their little store of exclusive attractions in the pur-
suit. Of this, we have had a melancholy proof in Mrs.
Wolstonecraft, who rashly endeavoured to break down the
barrier which wisdom, as well as custom, has established
between the characteristic pursuits of the two sexes.

Superiority of mind must be united with great generosity
and good temper, to be endured philosophically by those
within its influence. When this superiority is possessed by
women over men, the task of endurance has been found still
harder. Censure is a tax, too, which even men have im-
posed on them by the public, when they seek to attain
eminence of any sort; and women have a double portion of

LETTER V. 43

this penalty to endure. There are, in short, innumerable
reasons why women should be content with a moderate por-
tion of those intellectual attainments, to which the sex have
been recently admitted. The deference paid to superiority
of intellect in females is withheld, unless that superiority is
accompanied by a singular degree of modesty and discretion.
Men generally flatter with an equivocal air, when their
attention is called to those things. If the acquirement is
trifling or frivolous, their flattery is more spontaneous and
pleasing. So much depends on the approbation of the
stronger sex, that women of cultivated understandings some-
times find themselves but poorly rewarded for their industry
in the attainment of knowledge. They meet either with a
sneer or an equivocal compliment, and have the mortifica-
tion of finding that all their trouble has only unfitted them
for pleasing those with whom they are to spend their lives.
To this is frequently added the poignant mortification of
discovering, that some superficial girl, with a few trifling
accomplishments, is preferred to them. The fact is, that
men are jealous of literary and scientific ladies, and not
without cause; for though they have little chance of being
surpassed in these attainments, they have a pretty strong
one of finding no one to superintend their domestic esta-
blishments with skill, or attend properly to the homely
minutiae of the household department. This is no incon-
siderable evil to a man who has entered into a rational
calculation of the true requisites to domestic content.
Therefore it is best for women to keep themselves from
conflicting with the prejudices of the other sex. It is better
to be governed by weak reasons, than to be incapable of
being restrained by strong ones. Let them cultivate the
useful faculties of their minds as much as they can ; let them
regulate their feelings, subdue their passions, and store their
memories with useful, practical facts, such as may be brought
forward and interwoven with the ordinary events and

44 LETTER V.

pursuits of life. Elaborate accomplishments are of little use
in domestic life; but a taste for music or drawing may be
moderately cultivated, and made subservient to purposes of
rational amusement. Whatever embellishes life without
occupying an undue portion of time or thought, is useful
and pleasing. Flowers may be cultivated without neglecting
fruits, or the still more important staple commodity of
bread.

In forming the female character, there should be an
attempt made to assimilate its propensities, as well as its
acquisitions, to those of the other sex, that harmony and
beauty may be produced by an union of two beings designed
for each other.

Until this becomes the specific object of female education,
we must not wonder that the conjugal union so often pro-
duces dissonance instead of concord. Women must be
brought up in a fitness for their conjugal duties. For this
purpose, they must be practised in the appropriate graces of
the conjugal and maternal character. They must not
shrink from obedience, for it is their scriptural duty ; from
subordination, for it is their safe and proper grade in the
scale of social life. Many other requisites ma)' sound
harshly to ears unpractised in lessons of sober wisdom ; but
I am thinking solely of promoting the rational happiness of
my sex, not of flattering their vanity, or pampering their
pride. Were I to contend for an equality of rights, I am
not sure that their happiness would be secured by a full and
perfect success ; but with a certainty of defeat in so chival-
rous an undertaking, I prefer pointing out the best method
of using their actual privileges, to instituting an unprofitable
contest for doubtful rights. This seems to be the age of
experiments in the female department; and I ardently
wish to see those experiments founded on reason and tradi-
tional experience. Any mistake in such an important mat-
ter may have a fatal influence upon human happiness. I

LETTER V. 45

have noticed in my own limited sphere of observation, that
those women who have been entrusted with most power over
others, have uniformly had least power over themselves.
The very process of arranging rules for the government of
others, seems to be attended by an unconscious relaxation
of the inward discipline of the heart and temper. What is
it that makes women sometimes notorious for indulging an
irascible humour with their dependants? It is surely the
failure of internal control — the want of secret restraint. If
you follow the history of female nature as it is recorded in the
annals of the world, you will find that female sovereigns have
been usually violent and despotic over the domestic circle.
Queen Elizabeth boxed the ears of her courtiers in a frenzy
of rage, upon the slightest provocation. The unfortunate
Mary of Scotland was deficient in self-government, in a
point still more dangerous in its effects upon her happiness
and respectability. In the august age of Louis XIV., you
will find singular examples of the abuse of power in females.
The great and good Fenelon was disgraced, because he
thwarted the ambition of Madame de Maintenon ; and the
insane bigotry of the same lady is supposed to have occa-
sioned the revocation of the edict of Nantes. Indeed it will
scarcely be too much to assert, that the abuse of power in
women has occasioned in many instances the moral and
political decline of nations.

But I have allowed myself too much latitude in discussing
this subject. The immediate object of my remarks is, to
attempt to reconcile the female sex to a subordinate station
in the social compact. That is to say, a station where they
will be subject to the rule of their legitimate superiors both
in moral and physical strength. This subordination is so
plainly in consonance with the will of God, that I am sur-
prised to hear it controverted by professors of religion. Wo-
man, in the first place, was created as a sort of appendage
to man, and made inferior to him in physical energy, in

46 LETTER V.

consequence of which she was understood to have a claim
upon his protection ; in return for this protection, she was
to yield him that allegiance which the great law of nature
sanctions the strong in exacting from the weak. Again, the
transgression of the woman placed her in awful circum-
stances, as the object of heavenly wrath. This penalty was
voluntarily incurred for her sake by the man, who abjured
blesssings which he might still have retained, rather than
separate himself from his heaven-appointed companion. It
is, therefore, the obvious duty of woman to compensate to
man, as much as possible, for the sacrifices he has made in
her behalf; while her paramount obligations to an offended
God, should induce the most perfect submission to his re-
vealed will. It surely is not in resisting the adverse
circumstances in which we may be placed by Providence,
but in submitting to them, that true obedience to the Al-
mighty will be found to consist. The proud heart of an
assuming, ambitious female, may shrink from the task of
obedience to a fellow worm, but it is, nevertheless, an
imperative duty of her station, to yield that submission to
her legitimate. She may writhe under the yoke of masculine
authority, but nature, and the God of nature, have alike
fitted it to her neck, and her wisest alternative is patient
submission.

The destiny of women is sweetened by many of the
choicest mercies of her Creator. It is in her heart that the
dove of faith finds rest for the sole of his foot, after he has
been poising his weary wing over the turbulent ocean of hu-
man passion. It is among her peculiar and appropriate vir-
tues, that religion puts forth its freshest bloom, like the rose
of Sharon amid the wildest scenes of sterility. She is happily
exempt from the necessity of mingling with the stormy
elements which compose general society ; where the turbu-
lence of ambition, or the mad excitement of other raging
passions, sets man against his fellow man like the tigers of

LETTER V. 47

the desert. Her's is a sphere where the gentler virtues of
humanity may flourish beneath her fostering smile. The
most deadly blights to human peace, fall not in their keenest
malignity within her appropriate scenes of action. Man
himself lays aside his rugged characteristics when he seeks
the solace of her society. The fiercest warrior, or the most
unrelenting votary of stern ambition, wears a smoother
aspect, when a gentle feminine creature, formed after the
most perfect model of her sex, crosses his path and scatters
roses among the thorns of his appointed track. There is
not in nature a more beautiful spectacle, than that of a fe-
male, invested with all the purest attractions of her sex, in
the act of soothing the toil-worn companion of her destiny,
under his characteristic moodiness of humour. When he
comes from the troubled scenes of life, with a cloud gathered
over his soul, from which the lightnings of human passion
flash fiercely, as brooding thought supplies the electric fluid,
she is to him like a sunbeam, piercing the dense vapour, and
shedding light and beauty over the tempest of his feelings.
And yet, my dear Mary, I have known women who for-
bore to exercise this blessed prerogative of their sex; who
imitated the scowl of discontent upon a husband's brow,
rather than disperse its gloom by a cheerful greeting.

Some women complain that their husbands come home
moody and grave, when they ought to bring smiles and
gaiety to the poor lonely recluses of their firesides. Should
they not consider that these coveted smiles are not so easily
found among the cares and provocations of busy life? They
are, perhaps, not, strictly speaking, the natural product of
any part of this gloomy world; but they may be brought
forth with a little exertion of female ingenuity, from the
simple materials which compose the domestic circle.

The woman who is left in quiet among her household
deities, can warm into life the latent constituents of cheer-
fulness with more ease than the overburdened head of the

48 LETTER V.

family, when he goes abroad in pursuit of arduous, and per-
haps painful, duties. A little exertion is always necessary
to keep domestic life from stagnation, but it is the peculiar
province of women to make that exertion.

Hortensia is one of those women, who exacts from her
husband all those observances which I have mentioned as
being peculiarly attached to the female department. She
was educated by a despotic mother it is true, and this mis-
fortune of her early life has shed a blight upon all around
her. Having been restricted in liberty during her girlhood,
she entered the state of matrimony with delightful anticipa-
tions of emancipation from control. Her husband was a
man of mild affectionate temper, who yielded spontaneously
to her requisitions, without questioning their justice, or
objecting to the sacrifice of natural rights implied in them.
During the despotism of her mother's government, Hortensia
had acquired such little habits of deception as are the natural
consequences of tyrannic restriction in childhood. Children
who are unnaturally restrained, soon learn to indemnify
themselves surreptitiously, when the eye of their tyrant is
not immediately upon them. They contract sly habits of
evasion, which insensibly mature into the practice of syste-
matic deceit. It was thus with Hortensia. She was aware
of this defect in her character, but she deemed it too slight
to require correction, and thought herself rather to be pitied
than blamed for the misfortune which had occasioned it. She
would speak candidly of the errors of her education, and at-
tribute to them the faults of her mature years, without
thinking it at all necessary to correct them. From having
been forced in childhood to practise implicit obedience,
she contracted a belief that nothing was more essential to
happiness, than to rule others as she herself had been
ruled. Strange error, to suppose that because the abuse of
power makes the subject of it miserable, it should there-
fore make the person who practises it happy ! I believe

LETTER V. 49

it will be found that the tyrant is as miserable as the person
over whom he tyrannizes. Hortensia had a submissive
husband, and yet she was not happy in her uncontrolled
exercise of conjugal power. No woman can be; because
she is violating the law of nature and of God, and the human
heart is so constituted, that even the slender portion of hap-
piness allowed to mortals can only be found in the path of
duty. Hortensia thought the cause of her unhappiness
was attributable to some defect in her husband's modes of
yielding his will to her's. She complained of the slightest
instances of self-gratification in her willing slave. She
reproached him for not rejoicing sufficiently in his privilege
of conjugal obedience. " If he loved her as he ought, he
would be more cheerful when he did any thing to gratify
her. If she was as dear to him as she ought to be, he
would wear a more cheerful aspect habitually, and never
give way to gloom in her presence. She, to be sure, had
been unfortnnate in her early life, and could not, therefore,
be blamed for irregular spirits; but he had never been re-
strained unnaturally; his spirits ought to be always good."
Hortensia, always restless and full of schemes, imagined that
her husband endeavoured to thwart her secretly, and this
suspicion gave her full authority to practise those arts of
deception which the necessities of her girlhood had taught
her. A thousand little plans were laid to overthrow his
fancied assumption of power ; and these gave scope to the
perverted ingenuity of her mind. Her friends were assured
that they could not see half the difficulties of the case.
" They were not experienced like her in detecting stratagems
to overthrow or supersede her legitimate authority. They
knew not half the strangeness of the man she had to deal
with. To them, her husband appeared very complaisant
and obliging, even self-denying / but it was only artifice in
him ; he was self willed and obstinate enough in reality. To
be sure, he was an excellent man; she was proud of his virtues;
E

50 LETTER V.

but with all his good qualities, he was like other husbands in
this world, fond of having his own way in all things.''

Thus this "excellent and virtuous man" contrived to
keep alive the suspicion and disapprobation of his wife, and
to maintain a constant flow of querulous complaints against
him. His plans were slily circumvented before they were,
formed 5 and Hortensia reproached him with disingenuous-
ness, because he would not acknowledge that she was right
in attributing them to him. When she carried her own
point triumphantly, she could not enjoy her victory, because
he would not acknowledge that he had set his heart upon
doing exactly the reverse, and had sacrificed his will to hers.
" Oh, to be sure," she would say, " you deserve no great
praise for giving up to me, when you have no will of your
own on the subject. I confess now, that a husband, to be
a good one, ought to show the world, that he is willing to
give up the point he is most set upon in the world, solely to
please his wife.77 " Well, but, Hortensia, cannot you be
satisfied to have your own way, unless it implies a positive
sacrifice of mine ?" said he, smilingly, one day. " To be
sure not!" was her reply. " If I wish to prove that you
are a good husband, how can I do it unless you give up
your will to mine? You know how I have been thwarted
all my life, and you ought to be pleased to crop yourself
for my sake." Thus was poor Hortensia made miserable
in the midst of acknowledged supremacy, because her power
was exercised without giving pain to her subjects. She had
been unhappy while under subjection herself, and she could
not be content without inflicting the same degree of unhap-
piness on another. This seemed but just retribution to her,
and any thing short of it did not indemnify her for her former
sufferings.

These errors, derived from a faulty education, have been
persisted in, from an imaginary necessity ; whereas a little
exertion of moral strength would have removed them.

LETTER VI. 51

Hortensia claims compassion, from having been brought up
defectively, and persists in making herself, and those around
her unhappy, merely because she has been so herself in
girlhood.

So much for attempting to rule, when Providence has
ordained that we should be ruled.

Believe me, dear Mary, ever yours.

LETTER VI.

Danger of associating with amiable Females who are
ivithoat Religion.

My Dear Mary,

You have, among your nearest connexions, some uncom-
mon specimens of female worth, without that faith in the
Redeemer which should be the basis of all morality, and
which you have been taught to think especially indispensa-
ble to your own sex. Doubtless when you yield yourself to
the charms of their society, you are ready to ask, " Can
there be no exception to the rule so imperatively assigned
to me as a criterion of moral worth ?" This hesitation is
natural, but it is unsafe, my dear Mary; and you must
accustom yourself to consider these very attractive friends
of yours as dangerous intimates, if they do not (as I ardently
hope they will) lay down their unbelief at the foot of the
cross.

You know, my dear girl, how plain, unequivocal, and
unsusceptible of evasion, is the rule laid down in Holy Writ,
as the sole foundation of all hopes of salvation. When our
Saviour said to Nicodemus, " Except ye be born again, ye
cannot enter the kingdom of God," do you suppose that he

52 LETTER VI.

gave him credit for his sound morality, and let him hope
for salvation through his own good deeds ? Assuredly not.
The most blameless and spotless character on earth, nay,
the most actively benevolent of mortal men, cannot enter
heaven, without faith in the atoning blood of Christ. Lay
this holy truth to your heart, my dear Mary, and suffer no
possible maxim of worldly sophistry — no subtle evasion of
miscalled charity, to taint its sanctity. It is God's own holy
truth, and man will not be held guiltless when he deviates
one iota from its sanctified validity. No deeds can be
accepted in heaven, however brilliant their aspect to the
eye of man, until the being who performs them has been
justified by faith in the Redeemer.

This sounds paradoxical to human ears, and according to
merely human judgment. But you know, my dear Mary,
that the Lord himself has declared, that his ways are not as
our ways, nor his thoughts as our thoughts.

I do not say, that virtuous deeds are not admirable in our
eyes, when performed by the unregenerate; on the contrary,
I acknowledge in myself a capacity of ardent admiration for
the virtues even of heathen men ; but the Lord has declared,
that the most brilliant deeds of the virtuous are unacceptable
to him, unless they are prompted by the desire of promoting
his glory. Deeds cannot be virtuous in his sight, until the
heart that prompts them has been born again of the Spirit,
for nothing really good can proceed from the natural heart.
Unless the sinner is first justified through faith in Christ, his
fairest actions are prompted by some motive connected with
carnal feelings, and therefore they must be impure in the
sight of God. With regard to your unconverted friends,
my dear Mary, I see much in them to attract affection ; for
they are gentle and generous, sensible and enlightened.
Their conversation is far more innocent, and even instructive,
than that of many professing Christians of my acquaintance,
They speak of books, not persons, and therefore they rarely

LETTER VI. 53

tread the contaminated path of slander, or taint their
thoughts with the unholy breathings of malicious scandal.
Alas, how many souls are hurried to the realms of eternal
darkness, by the envenomed habit of perverting truth for
the purpose of winning others over to the unholy prejudices
of a corrupt heart ! How often do words heedlessly uttered
warp the erect dignity of truth, till it stoops to minister to
the impure cravings of a diseased soul. But let us forsake
this sad subject. There is danger, my dear girl, in asso-
ciating with those who are amiable and endearing in their
manners, without blemish on their characters, and yet
destitute of religion.

The arch enemy of souls is never better pleased than
when he can interest professors in what has no reference to
Christianity. This is a great danger in your situation, and
one against which I would guard you particularly. You
doubtless feel mortified when your friends dissent from your
opinions on sacred subjects, or when they shun all con-
versation which tends towards them. You feel humbled
also, when you present some leading truth in what you
think a striking point of view, to their notice, and they turn
coldly from the contemplation, or else lightly evade the
topic. All these difficulties will suggest to you, at length
the propriety of refraining from every subject immediately
connected with your faith, and dwelling in safe neutrality
and silence for the present. There is evil in all these
things, my young friend, and I wish to warn you from the
worst shades of such a ment&l calamity as must be insepa-
rable from infidelity.

In the first place, then, you must guard against falling
into a supine state, while you are seeking to quell the
unpleasant feelings arising from the unbelief of your friends.
Never forget to feel for their danger ; never cease to pray
for their conversion; never, above all, suffer your feelings
of interest to subside for a moment into the calmness of
e2

54 LETTER VI.

indifference. Pray unceasingly, and with all the ardour of
your soul, for the change from death unto life, of those
deservedly dear to you. Something must be decidedly
wrong when the believing and unbelieving live together
without a constant recurrence to the circumstances of their
state, either in conversation or in thought. Such a state
of things argues both coldness of faith and indifference of
friendship. For you must love the Lord little indeed, if
you do not strive to win souls for his kingdom ; and the chill
of death must have fallen upon your friendship, when you
cease to desire the kingdom of heaven for those you profess
to love.

Beware then, my young friend, how you feel, and how
you act in the society of those of whom T have spoken. Be
assured that if you remain together long without a change
for the better in them, you will have much reason to expect
an alteration for the worse in yourself. You must either
raise them towards your level, or you must insensibly be
drawn downwards towards theirs.

There are many people who imagine, that by insisting so
much on the necessity of faith, we undervalue good works.
This opinion is very much quoted by those who consider
an evangelical faith as something chimerical. But I affirm,
in common with all spiritual believers, that true faith can
be known only by its works. This was the test proposed
by the Apostle James, who declares himself ready to show
his faith by his works, whilst he affirms, that faith without
works is dead. [See 2d chap. Epistle of James.]

It is a common expedient with unbelieving disputants to
accuse those who lay a stress upon the necessity of faith, of
insinuating that mere morality is quite unnecessary. Now,
though there can certainly be very pretty morality without
religion, yet there certainly can be no religion without
morality. For instance, persons may deny the Lord that
died for them, and yet maintain a very correct moral

LETTER VI. 55

deportment; whereas no one gives credit to the faith of a
Christian who swerves from the moral law in practice.

Your unbelieving friends are, doubtless, exceedingly cor-
rect in their conduct, for they are greatly respected and
beloved as virtuous individuals. They meet the reward of
their virtues in the love and approbation of all who know
them. But you, my dear girl, look for a higher and more
enduring reward; not for an equally moral conduct ; not,
indeed, for any merits which you can plead ; but because
the Saviour in whom you believe, has been pleased to
declare, that "He will reward those who diligently seek
him." Endeavour, then, to show forth your faith by your
works, so as to make it attractive to your friends. You
must do this, not by a sinful acquiescence in what your con-
science denies, and your heart disproves ; not by practising
that spurious virtue so much vaunted in the world under the
name of charity, which consists in admitting what the word
of God imperatively denies ; not in conforming to the
manners and practices of the world, under the plea of avoid-
ing intolerance and over strictness : but in a steady, sys-
tematic performance of christian duty; a firm and clear
declaration of Christian faith ; a diligent maintenance of
those graces of the christian character, which speak more
strongly in favour of the religion you profess, than volumes
of verbal panegyric. And to sum up all in one expression,
let your religion be profitable to all around you, and it will
soon establish your cause and the cause of God in righteous-
ness. Some Christians express great sorrow for the condition
of their unbelieving friends, and do really deceive themselves
into a belief of their sincerity. But these are people not very
much accustomed to examine the ground of their frequent
declarations. Ask them if they pray earnestly for their
conversion — if they really do warm their energies in behalf
of their friends by much meditation on their spiritual danger
— if they struggle for this blessing with many tears and sup-

56 LETTER VII.

plications — if they shrink with horror from the prospect of
entering heaven without any hope of seeing there these dear
objects of their love ? All these interrogatories may serve
to surprise the soul out of its supine forgetfulness ; for none
can persist in saying that they really desire a thing which
they have never even prayed for. And what must be the
spiritual condition of that person who slights the necessities
of his dearest friends? who does not meditate upon their
forlorn state, nor supplicate the Lord to change it? who
sees unbelief secure in false peace before his eyes, and thinks
of no means to avert the danger ? Can this, I repeat it, be
true friendship or true religion ? Let us be wary, my dear
Mary. Let us scan our state narrowly. We cannot be useful
subjects of Christ's kingdom while we sit down carelessly
with the unbelievers of our own household, and omit to plead
daily for their conversion ; neither can our own case be pre-
cisely safe, when we forget the imperious requisitions of
religion, in the allurements of manners, or any mere carnal
advantage possessed by those around us. May the Lord
forgive and strengthen us, for the best of us are but unpro-
fitable servants.

I remain your true friend.

LETTER VII.

Mistakes in Religion.

My Dear Mary,

Some one has reported to me, that one of your most
interesting friends has lately professed religion. I earnestly
pray this may be true; but there are so many counterfeits
abroad, that I am always fearful of giving way to hope,

LETTER VII. 57

without proper ground for indulging it. The lady in question
is so popular, and so much beloved in her erroneous faith,
that I have thought her situation one of little encouragement
to hope. Many fallacious signs of conversion appear in those
gentle, amiable characters, which give rise to reports such as
I have heard. But I know with how much complacency
even Christians sometimes assimilate themselves with good
amiable people of the world. They lose sight of the danger
of associating with unbelievers, and even encourage their
unbelief, by overlooking that most prominent defect of their
characters, in consideration of some minor attraction of mind
or manner. They even extol their associates for the goodness
of their hearts, when the Bible (which they profess to take
for their rule of life) tells them that the unconverted heart is
" desperately wicked." This is rather inconsistent; but we
soon learn that in this world the same terms have different
meanings when applied to different things. A moral man is
respected among his fellow beings ; but mere morality will not
carry him to heaven ; for " without holiness no man can see
the Lord." Christianity must make a man moral ; but all
the morality in the world cannot make him a Christian.

The first work of the Holy Spirit on the heart is to esta-
blish upright principles on a sure basis. When a man
forsakes sin because he loves God, his conduct will become
radically correct, and there will be a beautiful conformity
between his principles and his actions. But when his sins
are restrained only through the fear of worldly censure, or
desire of worldly approbation, the restraint will be only
external. The heart will still retain the germ of worldly
passions, which will continue to work in secret, and to pour
out their influence in many a silent stream upon the world.
Many think they will go to heaven, because their lives are
outwardly virtuous ; but this belief is prompted most obvi-
ously by the deceitfulness of the desperately wicked heart.
It is not sanctioned by scripture, and it will fail to support

5& LETTER VII.

the spirits in that honest hour, when worldly things assume
their true value in human estimation. Such men will be
then found to have dishonoured God; and remorse of spirit
will overwhelm them in the season of conviction ; they
have been only seeking the applause of man, while they
have arrogated to themselves a higher principle of action.
The approbation of God they cannot attain, for they have
not striven for it in the manner prescribed by himself.
Dreadful indeed will be the moment when worldly delusions
forsake the soul, and it beholds its past thoughts, impulses,
and actions, by the refulgent beams of truth, then bursting, for
the first time, upon the startled sight. How inconceivably
trifling those interests will then appear, which have pos-
sessed magnitude sufficient to mislead the deluded spirit
through all the changing scenes of life. As a man thinketh
in his heartf so is he ; not as he acts outwardly, under the
impulse of worldly motives.

The carnal heart is still enmity against God, even when
the outward actions are apparently conformable to reason
and religion. Christian graces and worldly virtues are
totally different things. The first spring from the regene-
rate heart, and bear an impress, however faint, of holiness.
The last bear the inward stamp of selfishness, that inherent
root of bitterness. The first have the glory of God for
their permanent object, the last tend only to temporal
profit or pleasure.

But there is yet another grade of morals which is attained
by a strict attention to the forms of religion. These mo-
ralists affect to enlist with the Saviour, and wear his livery,
while they are strangers to his spirit. The service is diffi-
cult, and they loiter behind while others are bearing the
burden and heat of the day; though if they are questioned
as to the service in which they have engaged, they point to
the common emblem of salvation, the cross of the Re-
deemer, as their acknowledged standard. The forms of

LETTER VII. 59

religion may be maintained without a change of heart.
They may be scrupulously observed, with as much tenacity
as if every feeling and faculty were interested in their
observance. When religion revives in a community, many
assume it as a sort of fashion. Some are educated in its
forms, and some adhere to them from custom. They tread
the path of duty, because it is the plainest, not because it is
the pleasantest. Many, again, are merely sensible of the
necessity of religion. They think it a moral agent of great
power, and therefore wish to engage it in meliorating the
condition of man. Conscience at the same time warns
them in secret, that their natural propensities require
restraint. These take up religion as a kind of check, with-
out intending a radical amendment. They begin right,
but they stop short of efficient piety, and never make the
discovery of their own inability to overcome nature. The
sincere seeker after truth, meanwhile, becomes aware that
his old nature is incapable of amendment, and he turns with
avidity towards that principle which holds forth a new
heart to the convicted sinner as the reward of his penitence
and contrition. He finds that men may sometimes do right
without this radical change, but that total and entire reforma-
tion is a thing not to be effected without the grace of God.

Again, there are some who profess Christianity from a
mere speculative knowledge of its doctrines. This know-
ledge is certainly necessary to spiritual attainments; but it
cannot supply their place. We must not only know God,
but we must love him, before we can be Christians.

Wicked men, you know, are sometimes speculative be-
lievers; and the devils themselves believe and tremble.
They hold orthodox opinions, and are well versed in Scrip-
ture. Satan himself is a profound theologian, as far as
speculative knowledge goes. He would not so well know
how to mislead people, if he was not intimately acquainted
with the truth : And though he is denominated the father of

60 LETTER VII.

lies, there is not a holy truth revealed in the Bible, which he
does not know and believe. He has deeper knowledge
than many professing Christians, and this enables him to
pervert those truths that they are ignorant of. Speculative
knowledge improves the head, while the heart remains in
its native depravity. Men may know God without loving
him ; but he will not save them unless they love him as
well as know him. They may have the knowledge that
puffeth up, and not that which edifieth. Let no hope of
salvation rest on a speculative knowledge of the Bible.
Deception in this case is easy, though it is fatal. People
who are not experimentally acquainted with real religion,
very naturally mistake the shadow for the substance. The
form of godliness may be assumed with pleasure and profit.
The Pharisees were distinguished for their outward sanctity,
though their hearts were compared to a sepulchre; and it is
fearful to think, that many in the present day resemble
them closely. Many persons read their Bibles, and attend
the ordinances of religion, while their unchanged hearts are
full to overflowing of worldly conceits and affections. They
know no more of vital piety than nonprofessors, while they
continue to draw near to the altar in cold formality, and
assume to themselves the name and prerogatives of real
Christians. But the all-seeing eye discerns the progress of
self-deception, and it is often his holy will, that the subtle
craftiness of the evil one, should be disappointed in its
effects; and the object selected as his victim, rescued from
his power.

Do not think me tedious, dear Mary, in thus marking out
the various sorts of religion which pass current in this delu-
sive world for a pure and vital faith.

There is yet another class to which I must allude. It is
that which consists of persons who have attained a convic-
tion that they are sinners, and yet have not received Christ
as a Saviour. They dread sin without knowing how to

LETTER VII. 61

avoid it. They exhaust themselves in fruitless efforts to
cleanse their own hearts; while the Bible still proclaims,
" Come to me, and be ye healed and cleansed." All their
works are abortive ; for they are done in their own strength,
whereas Christ says, " Without me, ye can do nothing."
" My strength is made perfect in your weakness."

They mistake the power of coming to the Saviour, or
remaining aloof from him, for the power of rectifying their
own errors. They will not come to him and have life, for
they have a vague hope that life will come to them without
this concession. Thus they loiter till the day of grace is
past. Now Christ does not invest his creatures with the
moral ability to do the work of sanctification themselves,
but he promises to work in them the radical change from
death unto life. They must understand and accept these
conditions, before the covenant of grace can be laid hold of,
as securing to them the blessings which it proffers. Man is
able to come to Christ that he may be saved, but he cannot
save himself without the agency of the Saviour. Salvation
is the prerogative of omnipotence alone ; but if the sinner
feels the necessity of it, God is most willing to undertake
the holy work. Man must be willing to receive grace, or
it will not be imparted to him. He may mar his happi-
ness by the misuse of his own moral faculties, just as the
first of his race lost Paradise. But through Christ, God can
save him, and if he complies with the conditions made
known explicitly in his word, " God will save to the utter-
most all who come to him."

Some receive salvation gladly on the Lord's own terms,
while some hesitate, as if they could make other conditions
for themselves. This is both foolish and irreverent. It is
as little as we can do for him who died for us, to consent
that he shall save us in his own manner.

But some people find their moral faculties any thing but
free, for their exercise is impeded by a thousand strange
F .

62 LETTER VII,

devices of Satan. Prejudice draws them one way and pride
another, while the freedom of choice is completely destroyed.

I remember hearing a tale when I was a child, which is
somewhat applicable to the subject of this letter.

An old man had two sons, who were one day surprised
by the sight of a lion coming towards them, in a field near
their father's house. They saw their danger, and looked
around for help. On one side, there was a high wall,
which surrounded their father's dwelling, on the other side
of which, they herd the old man's voice affectionately exhort-
ing them to come to him, and find safety. One of the
youths determined to obey this injunction, but his brother
opposed him vehemently — " Do you not see," said he, ' that
the wall is insurmountable? — its height is immense. The
lion will pursue us until we reach it, and then find us an easy
prey. I will trust to my speed, and attempt to escape in the
opposite direction." "But,"' said the other in reply, " do
you not hear our father urging us to climb the wall ? — surely
he would not do this if the thing was impracticable." u I
don't care," said the other, "go your way, and I will go
mine." There was no time for farther parley. The dutiful
son followed his father's advice, and fled towards the wall.
As he approached, he discerned a ladder of ropes suspended
from the summit, on which he rapidly ascended. He did
not fail to call aloud, announcing this intelligence to his
brother, but his eyes turned towards him only to behold his
destruction.

I have now pointed out to you, my dear Mary, the dif-
ferent semblances of Christianity, which pass current with
superficial people for real conversion. May you be enabled
to avoid these deceptions yourself, while you become quali-
fied to warn others from similar dangers. First come to
Christ, and there, leave it to him to work in you the requisite
regeneration. Remember the sufficiency of his grace, and
efficiency of his strength, to sustain. you under every trial.
I am, with true affection, ever yours.

( 63 )

LETTER VIII.

Influence of Religion on the Temper.
My Dear Mary,

Having explained to you the nature of true conversion, I
wish now to point out some of the Christian graces which
are most lovely in a female disciple. Remember that good
works are the only test of a true faith ; and let your works,
therefore, be mainifest as a testimony of the sufficiency of
that faith. Without the aid of the Spirit of God, the human
heart remains in the same imperfect state which is natural
to man ; but shall Christ do nothing for you after you have
complied with the condition of his covenant? Assuredly yes.
Whatever defect of character may have been conspicuous in
you before, is now to be amended by the all efficient grace
of God. Try your heart, and prove its wicked ways, that
they may be subjected to the healing Spirit. There is no
Christian grace of greater value than a gentle temper; and
yet few women take the trouble to acquire one, if nature
has denied them the blessing. Surely this cannot be
because they undervalue the quality. It contributes more
to happiness than intellectual superiority, or wealth,
however abundant, or any thing that my pen can enume-
rate. u Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the
earth." Behold, the full and undivided inheritance of
earthly good is awarded to the meek in spirit. They
shall inherit all the good things of earth. That is to say,
all the real blessings that fall to the lot of humanity shall
be enjoyed by the meek spirited. They shall possess
their souls in peace, amid the strifes and turmoils of ambi-
tious and craving spirits. They are sure of winning the
affections of the mild and gentle, while fierce and angry
spif-'^ will shun them spontaneously. The moderate enjoy-
ments of life are suited to a meek temper; therefore they

64 LETTER VIII.

will be assigned to it without dispute. Is this no privilege ?
Is not the very distinction of a meek and quiet spirit, dear
to a thousand hearts ? Who does not love the gentle in tem-
per, and shun the irascible and impatient? For my part, I
hold the single capacity of abstaining from anger under just
provocation, to be an invaluable privilege. I had rather
hear it said of one whom I love, that her temper could bear
and forbear, amid the conflicts, and troubles, and trials of life,
than to hear that she possessed the talents of a de Stael, or
the wealth of Peru. A good temper hangs like a sunny sky
over the conjugal hemisphere. Man may indeed bask in its
perennial beams, till all his latent affections are warmed into
life. 1 hold this quality to be one of the cardinal requisites
of the conjugal character. How often is the happiness of
married life completely blighted by the want of good temper
in either party, but especially in the one from whom forbear-
ance and meekness are most imperiously demanded ! A bad
temper is such a fruitful source of misery to all connected
with it, that I cannot help considering it as one of the great-
est misfortunes of life. Some persons are happily exempted
by nature from this dreaded evil. They are so constituted
as to be naturally slow to wrath, and patient under provoca-
tion. But the worst natural temper may be completely
subjugated by grace. If I had felt myself excusable in doubt-
ing this fact, after the declarations of those who deem grace
a universal corrective of human perverseness, I should have
been long since forced to yield conviction to it, from obser-
vation of some persons most near and dear to my heart.
Some of the most perfect tempers I have ever known, have
been formed by the influence of grace, from a degree of
petulance and irascibility, which rendered their possessors
almost intolerable.

It is delightful to the true Christian to witness these
triumphant examples of the power of religion, ove* . the
degenerate nature of man.

LETTER VIH. 65

For my part, when I hear people extol Christianity,
because they have witnessed some striking instances of its
power in supporting the unfortunate, I cannot help turning
with warmer feelings of approbation and applause, to
examples of its influence in correcting tempers which had
once been the scourge of their possessors. I question
whether these effects of its divine power do not bear
stronger testimony to its utility, in the eyes of its great
Author. And I question also, whether the divine approba-
tion does not flow forth more fully towards those who carry
religion in their hearts as a daily antidote against some
innate venom of nature, than towards such as proclaim its
strengthening power in the season of affliction. Sorrow, it
is true, has its paroxysms, when Christianity soothes the
wounded spirit with irresistible skill. But passion has
more frequent seasons of excess, when the same inward
monitor is still more essential to the safety and comfort of
the individual. Religion is great when it heals the broken
heart, but it is doubly great when it checks the progress of
soul-destroying sin.

Those who apply to Christianity only as a restraint to
their sensibilities, while their passions are allowed to foam
off their madness without check, are but little aware of the
powerful agent they are neglecting to employ against their
fiercest enemy.

It is obvious to me, in many cases, that the evil of an
ungovernable temper, is rather tolerated than resisted.
Many persons require their friends to bear with them under
the plea that nature made them irascible ; and these very
persons will resort to religion in the season of affliction.
Surely this is lamentably wrong. The same principle which
is found efficient in the one case would be equally so in
the other. One would think that the pain and shame of
habitual irruptions of the temper would humble the proudest
spirit, and send it to him whose strength is promised to all
v2

66 LETTER VIII.

who need it. Parents are often culpably negligent in suffer-
ing their children to grow up with unsubdued tempers. A
little nursery discipline would strangle the monster in the
cradle, like the fabled serpents of Hercules. But in our
southern country especially, where the nursery attendants
are generally ignorant slaves, it is inconceivable what
mischief arises from maternal neglect.

Children are allowed to indulge all the native violence
of their tempers, without any restraint, and even without
admonition. If they wear a smiling aspect when brought
out and exhibited to company, no inquiries are made
respecting their conduct behind the scenes.

Indeed, the nurses frequently compound with their
charges, by conniving at any excess in private, provided
they behave with decorum in public. This is a dreadful
instance of mismanagement. Mothers, it is true, are forced
sometimes to leave their children solely to these ill-qualified
guardians ; but they should watch with ceaseless vigilance
for every token of visible ill, arising from their superin-
tendance, that they may apply such remedies as religion
and experience suggest to the case under their inspection.
It is a fatal error to judge from outward appearances, when
you have to deal with people, whose sole mental exercises
usually consist in devising cunning expedients to conceal
their neglect of duty. The attendants of our southern nur-
series are often adepts at deception, and the children under
their charge sometimes witness all their little machinations.
Dreadful lessons are given thus indirectly, and fearful con-
sequences arise from unsuspected springs of evil. But
maternal vigilance may prevent these terrible effects, so apt
to result from our national misfortune. There is, it is true,
but a choice of evils to persons so situated, but Christian
prudence suggests many palliatives even to that portion of
mischief which seems inevitable.

Virginia mothers should endeavour to form the characters

LETTER VIII. 67

of their household attendants, by inculcating christian
morality in its simplest form. Let them establish a few
simple rules, and enforce them with firmness and yet with
gentleness. Enjoin it as a particular duty in the nurse to
inform against the little offenders, in every imaginable lapse
from propriety. Errors of temper should be especially
investigated ; from infancy, children should be made
ashamed of indulging passion in any form, and penance
should be steadily inflicted on the offenders*

There is one very obvious source of evil to be avoided in
our southern country. I mean the habit so common with our
ignorant servants of vaunting to the children of rich parents
all the imaginary advantages of wealth and luxury. I well
remember hearing from my coloured nurse such details of
the luxury which my father could afford, and his superiority
in wealth to most of his neighbours, that my little heart was
inflated with vanity.

Whenever the children of the neighbourhood came to
visit me, I was sure to hear secret remarks upon their sup-
posed deficiencies in gentility. Then, after their departure,
my self-complacency was gratified by hearing comparisons
to my advantage.

1 was told how much more my father could afford than
theirs ; any little symptom of forced enconomy in their
dress was pointed out as a proof of meanness.

I was instructed to hold myself above the children of the
poor, because I was the daughter of a very wealthy man,
and ought not to let myself down by associating with what
were emphatically called Poor Folks.

Pride of wealth and pride of heart were thus carefully
inculcated, and I remember well when I thought poverty a
degradation, as well as a misfortune. Fortunately for my
future peace, I was soon removed from a situation so replete
with evil. But there are families among us, where a similar
process of instruction has been carried on with more durable

68 LETTER VIII.

effects. I know children, who have heard so much of the
superior advantages of wealth and luxury from their menials,
that they slight all companions who do not exhibit the exte-
rior signs of these distinctions. And, unfortunately, this
evil is not even suspected by their parents, who are totally
unconscious of the pride and overbearing insolence exhibited
by their children when they associate with less wealthy
people. Alas, how many evils surround us in the common
walks of life, of which the majority of those exposed to them
are utterly unconscious ! The remarks I have made on the
subject of temper were suggested to me by a conversation
lately held with my friend Emelia, concerning our personal
experience of these bosom evils. I found, to my surprise,
that her own struggles had been fierce with the demons of
wrath and impatience. But for her own positive acknow-
ledgement, I should never have suspected the nature of her
inward conflicts ; for her present demeanour is that of
true Christian meekness and gentleness. She smiled when
I adverted to her general reputation for goodness of temper,
and observed that her own experience on these subjects
might be a favourable specimen of the influence of grace on
the human heart. "I was negligently brought up,'7 added
she, "so that the whole labour of subjugating the demon
fell upon myself. I was left much to a nurse, who enjoyed
a great reputation for skill in her department, which she
owed solely to her craft in concealing her defects. She had
sense enough to understand what was required of her, and
cunning enough to feign all the qualities she wished to enjoy
a reputation for. I was naturally excessively passionate,
and she used often to provoke me wantonly, after which
she would threaten to report me to my mother. This,
however, she never did, or I might have derived some advan-
tage from the measure.

" She taught me to think a great deal of the rich, and
very little of the poor, without any reference to their intrinsic

LETTER Vlir. 69

merit. She gave me false ideas of generosity, by declaiming
against all schemes of meritorious thriftiness as mean, while
she praised actual wastefulness and extravagance as real
generosity. My mind was completely bewildered on the
subject of charity, by her singular perversions of its real
meaning. If my parents relieved the necessities of the poor,
she never failed to stigmatize the act as a piece of extrava-
gance, alleging, that she knew well the persons were impos-
ters and cheats. Again, if our poor neighbours were
admitted to our table, my nurse would complain that my
manners would be corrupted by such vulgar associates.
She never took me to the cottages of the poor in our rambles,
for fear I should become fond of low company. She
instructed me to be haughty and insolent to my father's
pensioners and dependents, because, she said, they would
presume upon my condescension, to get more money out of
the family. In short, 1 cannot detail all the perverted
arguments and ingenious sophistry which this poor unen-
lightened creature used to corrupt my sense of right.

" You may suppose," continued Emelia, " what dreadful
trials I was exposed to, when the cares and employments of
active life found me thus wofully undisciplined in temper,
to say nothing of my other defects. But I had fortunately
received deep convictions of religious duty, and I never
gave way to my hasty temper without bitter self reproach
and remorse of conscience. I felt as if I disgraced the holy
religion of Christ, by my frequent excesses of temper. To
complete my troubles, I was exposed to the machinations
of an evil minded person, who knew my defects, and prac-
tised every imaginable expedient to exasperate it. At that
time, I thought her my greatest enemy ; but since I under-
stood human nature better, 1 have been thankful to the Lord
for placing me precisely in the situation most favourable to
the developement of my failings. If my temper had not
been purposely exasperated, I should not have been made

70 LETTER VIII.

to feel all the poignancy of my bosom sin, and consequently
should not have struggled so prayerfully against it. Often
have I passed the greater part of the night in all the agonies
of penitential remorse, bathing my pillow with tears, and
supplicating divine aid against my besetting sin.

" I never permitted a single instance of anger or impa-
tience to pass unnoticed. On the contrary, I brought each
one with bitter self accusations to the foot of the cross, where
alone I expected pardon or heip in future trials. I had a
near relative and friend who possessed the same natural
defect, and I strongly recommended to her the same pro-
cess of self-abasement. But her religious impressions were
unfortunately not so deep as mine ; she sought to palliate
her fault, while I steadily viewed mine in all its appalling
terrors.

" Oh, how dangerous is that same habit of self-palliation.
My poor friend would say, 1 1 do not think my temper is
so very bad — it hurts me more than any one else; and if I
have to bear it, surely my friends can. Besides, my heart
is good — I am not cruel or malicious — I don't see that other
people are so much better than myself. A good temper is
a very rare quality, I think, and after all, one soon forgets
what is said or done in anger. It is better to be passionate
than obstinate; and quick tempered people are always gene-
rous and candid. I think your really meek, gentle people
are too soft and too yielding ; one should at least have a
proper spirit, and after all, we must not scan too closely
the precise degree of any fault. We are all bad by nature;
and people must take us as they find us. I am sure I have
to bear with others ; what is more just than that they should
bear with me.' All these, and a thousand more self-de-
lusive arguments, were used to drown the yearnings of
conscience, until at length all desire of amendment was
banished. My poor friend has grown more and more iras-
cible as years and infirmities have increased a malady for

LETTER VIII. 71

which no cure has ever been attempted. She still excuses her
defect, and lays the blame of her frequent excesses upon all
who have any thing to do with her. * You all try to pro-
voke me on purpose/ I once heard her say 5 * I should be
as good tempered as any body in the world, if I was not
tormented as no one ever was before.' "

Alas ! to those uninured to the salutary feeling, self-accu-
sation seems an evil too great to be encountered voluntarily.
Blessed be that religion which enjoins it as a duty, and
will not leave its true votaries an excuse for neglecting it.
" But," continued Emilia, " my poor friend had one mis-
fortune from which I trace many of her subsequent trials.
Just as she was deeply engaged in investigating Scripture
truth, in all its various aspects, she was assailed by a friend,
who was terrified lest she should join a religious set which
was peculiarly obnoxious to her, and came in pursuit of her
on purpose to avert this imaginary evil. From that moment
her thoughts were disturbed in their deep and placid current
in the channel of truth, and called aside, to debate upon the
various merits and demerits of certain unimportant points of
doctrine. My poor friend was told that her first guides had
neglected to warn her of certain pit-falls in the straight path
of Scriptural investigation. She was alarmed into more
caution ; and from that time she thought only of avoiding
the doctrine of predestination and election. Her first con-
victions of sin were stifled : her first genuine movements of
repentance were suspended : the full flow of mental inquiry
was cramped, and distorted, and abridged within the narrow
sphere of sectarian prejudice. That she might not become
bigoted to one sect, she was carefully inoculated with bigotry
to others, and thus closed her views of the mighty scope of
christian faith, which is co-extensive with eternity." I verily
believe this to be one of the favourite expedients of Satan,
to prevent people from understanding Christianity in its
fullest extent. When he sees active minds fully engaged

72 LETTER IX.

with the subject of religion, he trembles for the subjects of
his kingdom, and if he can contract their views within the
narrow pale of sectarian bigotry, he most successfully pre-
vents them from eluding his power, by keeping them in his
own region of strife and controversy.

Think deeply on these subjects, my dear Mary, and
never suffer your mind to be. contracted, by adopting the
prejudices of any sect. Find truth for yourself ; you know
where it is to be found, and establish it upon the sure founda-
dation of enlarged and enlightened charity and love.

Your's ever.

LETTER IX.

Exemplifications of Good and Bad Temper.

My Dear Mary,

My friend Emilia sometimes furnishes me with sketches
of character, drawn from her extensive acquaintance with
human nature; and I cannot do better than to transmit them
faithfully to you, as warnings or examples. Speaking with
her on the importance of good temper, as an ingredient in
domestic happiness, she observed, " If we scrutinize the
private condition of our neighbours, we cannot fail to find
temper at the bottom of most of their misfortunes. My
friends and neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Altorf, for instance,
are striking examples of this truth. They have a rich mea-
sure of heaven's blessings — health, and wealth, and friends,
and fine intelligent children ; but the temper of Mr. Altorf
sheds a blight upon their fairest prospects. I visited his wife
yesterday, and was sorry to find her pale and thin, with a
general air of discomfort and uneasiness about her. She

LETTER IX. 73

received me cordially, and a wan smile passed over her coun-
tenance like a faint sunbeam across a wintry cloud. To my
inquiries respecting her health, she replied with her usual
benign air of meekness, that she was in her usual health.
After some general conversation, we fell into our usual style
of familiar and friendly intercourse. Her voice became clear
and cheerful; her air assumed its customary animation; when
suddenly a cloud gathered over her brow, and her tone
gradually lowered, until she seemed unable to finish the
sentence she was speaking. Presently a bell rang long and
loud, as if impelled by an impatient hand ; her air of abstrac-
tion increased, and she rose with some perturbation and
quitted the room. A moment after, I heard the voice of her
husband, pitched in the loudest tones of anger ; one of the
little girls ran into the room and innocently laid her head in
my lap, turning up her tearful eyes with a gentle sigh. A
general silence fell on the little group, and I could not help
feeling a shade of sadness creeping over my spirits. Here,
thought I, are all the essential requisites to happiness com-
pletely marred by a single circumstance : here might be the
fullest measure of earthly bliss but for one malignant quality
which blasts the fairest promise of domestic peace. In a
few moments my poor friend returned, with every token of
suppressed agitation in her voice and manner. She made
an effort to resume the subject of our discourse, but her
expressions were incoherent, and her voice tremulous. One
of the little boys entered the room crying bitterly, and
exclaiming that his father had boxed his ears for nothing
but because he was standing in his way without knowing it.
'Fie, Charles,' said his mother, 'you are a bad boy; your
father has just had a most provoking accident happened to
him, and you should not take such an opportunity to tease
him by getting in the way.' Then turning to me, she con-
tinued, 'Mr. Altorf has just been telling me, that one of
his finest fields of corn is seriously injured by a wanton piece
G

74 LETTER IX.

of carelessness in one of the servants. How many troubles
and trials of temper arise from this source, to the gentlemen
of this southern country." I acquiesced in this preparatory
observation, for I saw through the delicate expedient of my
friend to account for the probable ill humour of her husband.
When the master of the house entered, I could not help
regarding him scrutinizingly. His features were regular, and
he would have been called a handsome man by those who
can dispense with a pleasant countenance as an ingredient of
manly beauty. There was a d#ud on his brow which over-
shadowed his eyes, and darkened their expression as the
summer cloud obscures the landscape, when it gathers dark
and dense athwart the blue face of heaven. All his features
lowered under its influence, and the muscles of his face
seemed to have lost their elastic property, by habitual ten-
sion. He smiled, indeed, and took my hand with an appear-
ance of cordiality ; but there was more of lightning than of
sunshine in his smile. It came like an electric flash from
his overloaded brow, and only remained long enough to
make its darkness visible. I could not help moralizing on
the nature of an evil which sheds so fatal a blight over the
fairest prospects, and yet is so seldom combated in its most
vulnerable state. In making a serious estimate of the
blessings of life, few think a good temper worthy of a promi-
nent station; and yet, the want of it renders every other
unavailable. Who can be tranquil within reach of a volcano,
which sends forth threatening smoke habitually, and often
showers down the red lava stream of wrath on all around,
so as to scorch and wither every tender affection, every
social sympathy ? The very children hang their heads in
undefined dread at the approach of the being whose pre-
sence should be as the fostering sunshine to their souls. Who
that witnesses such a spectacle, can join in the common
place assertion, that a bad temper is but a subordinate evil
in the catalogue of human grievances ?

LETTER IX. 75

" It is impossible that any person, endowed with the ordi-
nary portion of good natural feelings, can be happy in the
whirlwind of a troubled spirit; the atmosphere of storm
and tempest; the incessant bursting forth of the troubled
elements of passion. The love of peace is inherent in our
nature ; and to the regenerate heart, peace becomes the em-
blem of divinity, the token of a heavenly Father's love.
We cannot be happy where its hallowed rights are infringed,
its sacred prerogatives denied. Heaven is the abode
of peace. Our God is emphatically a God of peace. Dis-
cord is his enemy. Human wrath is one of the subjects of
his immitigable enmity."

These remarks of Emilia struck me forcibly, and t have
endeavoured to convey their spirit, if not their substance, to
my dear Mary.

On another occasion, Emilia gave me a sketch of two
characters with whom she is intimately connected.
(t Portia and Flavia, said she, are both conspicuously
endowed with a rare assemblage of tastes and talents.
Being wealthy, they enjoyed all the advantages of educa-
tion afforded by our country. Their progress was almost
exactly similar; and when they returned home after having
gone through the usual routine of mental cultivation, their
debut in life attracted much attention.

For a time, their success was equal, but at length it
became obvious, that Portia possessed the warm affections
of those who gave Flavia only their admiration. Yet none
could tax the latter with any positive defect of manner or
character. It was in trifles which scarcely admit of detail,
that Portia won upon the hearts of her associates. As the
summer dew refreshes nature in the absence of redundant
moisture, so did the silent influence of her kindly feelings
pervade the bosoms of those within the sphere of her attrac-
tions, reviving the languor of their drooping feelings.

After a residence of some months in the same family with

76 LETTER IX.

the two sisters, I was conscious of a warm preference for
Portia, though I was still ignorant of the defects of Flavia's
temper. These seemed to consist more in negative than
in positive faults. She certainly was not prompt in obliging
her friends, even when the obligation cost her no appa-
rent sacrifice: yet no one could accuse her of being hard of
heart or indifferent. But Portia showed not only a readi-
ness, but an impatience to gratify her companions. For
instance, when Flavia refused to play on the harp, because,
as she alleged, she was not in the humour for music, Por-
tia took her place, and played the whole evening, to the
great gratification of some ardent admirers of that instru-
ment. When she retired for the night, she showed me one
of her fingers which was swelled and inflamed, so as to
make her compliance with the wishes of the party exceed-
ingly painful. When thanked for her obligingness, she
replied with good humour, " Flavia plays much better than
I do, but she does not like to exhibit herself, as she calls if.
For mj part, I play for no other motive than to give my
friends pleasure."

Trifles may be considered as safe indications of the pre-
vailing temper of mind. Flavia was apt to make careless
speeches, which sometimes gave offence without any inten-
tion on her part. When told of these instances, she ex-
pressed contempt for the weakness of mind which could
misconstrue her meaning, but showed no kind of regret for
the impression actually made on her companions. Portia, on
the contrary, always mild, gentle, and observant of every
one's feelings, would exert herself seriously to remove the
most trifling misconstruction of her conduct. Flavia
thought herself entitled to the friendship of her connexions,
and left it to flow spontaneously towards her. Portia
seemed doubtful of her claims to regard, and was always
eager to increase it, by numberless trifling solicitations, as
they might be called, of those kindly feelings which she

LETTER IX. 77

loved to awaken. By degrees, Flavin's manners became
colder and less attractive. When told of this change, she
assigned as a cause for it, "that her knowledge of the
world was increasing, and she found mankind too little
attractive to excite her interest." The two sisters married,
and carried their distinctive characteristics with them into
conjugal life. Portia set an example of meekness and gen-
tleness in her intercourse with a man of quick temper,
which soon completely corrected her husband's fault, and
made him every thing she could desire. He often speaks of
her behavour to him at that period with great admiration
and gratitude.

Flavia married a man of indolent character, and indif-
ferent, careless temper. He yields himself entirely to her
control, so that she has no occasion to exert her spirit in
ruling him. Yet she seems soured and discontented, as if
every thing in life had fallen short of her expectations. Her
countenance has gradually contracted a cloudy expression,
which gives one an impression of inward discontent. Her
children are intelligent and handsome; yet their manners
do not convey the idea of domestic happiness. There is a
cloud upon the social circle, which chills the spirits, even of
their casual guests. No one can account for this circum-
stance, for both the heads of the family are much respected
in their general character. Flavia boasts herself to be a
manager of the old school. She declaims against the too
great relaxation of discipline in the present age, and whips
her children and scolds her servants to mark her disappro-
bation of modern indulgence. Her favourite theme of dis-
course is the comparative merits of the two systems. She
bears hard upon all who advocate the one she disapproves;
and several of her neighbours have waxed cold towards her
in consequence. She rebrobates Portia's lenient system of
management, and prognosticates nothing less than ruin as
the result. It sometimes happens that errors appear in the
g2

78 LETTER IX.

executive department of her own household, which give
cause of malicious triumph to her neighbours. Mrs. A.
went to condole with her, on hearing that the servant she
had bought from Mrs. B., had turned out badly. But
Flavia assigned all the blame to Mrs. B. herself, who had
given very unmerited praise to an indifferent servant, that
she might sell her advantageously.

Flavia is armed in a sevenfold shield of self-complacency,
and it is almost impossible to find a vulnerable part in her
panoply. Portia, on the contrary, is quick sighted to her own
defects, and is always the first to blame her own conduct.
She endeavours to rouse her sister to a sense of her danger;
but Flavia reminds her that they were always entirely dif-
ferent in temper and character, and that Portia cannot form
a proper estimate of her feelings, with much of the other
jargon common to those who choose to be wrong.

Portia's family circle is a perfect specimen of domestic
felicity. It is easy to discern at the first glance, that the
husband and wife wholly approve, and tenderly love each
other. The children, too, bear their part, from the oldest to
the present tenant of the cradle, in the well performed con-
cert of harmonized hearts and minds. It is refreshing to all
one's best feelings to make one of that charming group,
even for a day.

In Flavians family, on the other hand, though every thing
is arranged with elegant hospitality, and there is a show of
wealth just restrained by rational economy, you involuntarily
droop and become languid, under the influence of the torpor
of feeling which reigns around. All is dull, and cold, and
spiritless. Conversation is rapid, and mirth, if attempted,
soon darkens into solemnity. Flavia seems to approve of
nobody; and her affections are still more contracted than
when in early youth. Yet she talks of the advantages of
her situation, and pities persons who are much happier than
herself, for being without them. She thinks her own

LETTER IX. 79

state far more desirable than Portia's, and even affects to
believe, that Portia herself is secretly touched with envy
at her superior advantages. She pities her for having a
high spirited husband, and wonders how she can endure his
temper. u I should die under such thraldom as poor Portia
has to endure," she will say. " But, to be sure, she had
always a poor spirit of her own She thinks, because I
have some independence of character, that I am ill-tempered,
and she calls me obstinate because I have some perse-
verance !"

Portia and Flavia, each undertook a Sabbath school, and
both met with opposition from the ignorance of their coun-
try neighbours. Portia persisted in winning over her oppo-
nents with gentle representations of the utility of her plan.
Flavia blamed her for condescending to use persuasion with
such people. She carried her point bravely, by bearing
down heropposers; and having established the school to
show that she would not be outdone, she quietly relinquished
the scheme.

Portia, having succeeded in convincing her neighbours of
the expediency of her plan, continued to maintain the insti-
tution, with great trouble to herself. But she was rewarded
by becoming the benefactress of the poor in her neighbour-
hood, who to this day bless God for having cast her lot
among them.

The two sisters are both professors of religion, and the
characteristics which distinguished them as women of the
world, have remained with them under the most important
of all changes. Portia's meekness is truly evangelical.
Flavia's roughness of manner is mistaken for Christian can-
dour. " Oh, I must speak truth to every one. It is a Chris-
tian duty," says she. Then her harsh temper leads her to
rebuke with petulence and severity. Portia represents to her
that she does discredit to the cause of religion by her
violence.

§0 LETTER IX.

What ! said she, must I be as faint hearted and cowardly
as you are, in rebuking sin ? Does not the Scripture say,
" be ye angry and sin not I9'

But, said Portia,! understand the Apostle to mean that as
a prohibition to anger, as if he had said, Do not ye be angry
and sin; or rather, be not you angry and sin.

That is not my interpretation, said Flavia. Anger is
natural, and as we cannot help it, we must make a scriptu-
ral use of it, and rebuke sinners with spirit. We cannot
change our temperament. What nature made it, we must
be content to leave it.

What ! said Portia. If grace can change the heart, can-
not it change the temper? Are not we especially enjoined
to be slow to wrath, because the wrath of man worketh not
the righteousness of God ? Are we not required to be like !
minded with Christ ; who, when he was reviled, reviled not
again? Are we not to learn of Him who was meek and
lowly of heart? Is not the wisdom from above first pure,
and then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of
mercy and good works? Is not the fruit of righteousness
sown in peace, to them that make peace? Are there not
awful denunciations against the lovers of wrath and strife ?
They are told in plain terms, that they shall not enter the
kingdom of God. In short, are not gentleness and meek-
ness indispensable requisites of the Christian character?
Were they not eminently exhibited by the author of Chris-
tianity, and are they not imperatively inculcated in every
part of the holy volume? Oh? my dear Flavia, lay not the
flattering unction to your soul, that because your temper is
not gentle by nature, you are permitted to indulge unchris-
tian feelings. Grace will give you that genileness which
nature denied you. But oh, do not dishonour God by im-
puting to his holy religion the inconsistency of prohibiting
some things imperatively, and then sanctioning their prac-
tice in professors of Christianity. No, what he has forbid-

LETTER X. 81

den to all, he will not suffer in one. What he requires
generally, he will exact individually.

So much for Emilia's representations of character. Reflect
on these things, dear Mary,

And believe me ever, &c.

LETTER X.

False Sensibility exemplified.

My Dear Mary,

I have indeavoured to guard you against the evils of tem-
per, and I will now say something on the subject of inordi-
nate sensibility. I do not mean that sickly exuberance of
self-love, which I once warned you against ; but the excess
of sincere and honest feeling. Women are proverbially soft
hearted: nature, education, and the customs of society,
combine to foster their sensibilities. Their state of depen-
dence on man, makes them peculiarly sensitive; for, having
no security but his tenderness against the many ills of life,
if that resource should fail, they are left desolate. Yet
believe me, in many instances, the patience and forbearance
of the stronger sex, are too severely tested by the ill govern-
ed tenderness of woman. I have observed in females, an
unreasonable tenacity of opinion, in trifles beneath the
serious consideration of rational minds. They require a
thousand petty observances, which weary and disgust their
lofty minded superiors. It is certainly bad policy to persist
in these requisitions. Whatever sacrifices man may choose
to make to his female companion, should be graciously
received ; but if he manifests unwillingness to give up what
she, perchance, most earnestly desires, let her take a lesson
in self-denial, and submissively resign it. She will find her

82 LETTER X.

happiness promoted in the end, by any resignation of self-
will she may have strength to put in practice. Much of the
misery that abounds in conjugal life, might be spared through
the observance of this rule. But women, in general, seem
more tenacious of their rights, in proportion to the requisite
abridgment of them. They hold fast that which they should
surrender without a murmur. There is but one rule for
conjugal obedience, and that is, that the woman should obey
all such requisitions as are consistent with her higher duties.
If she is unfortunately yoked unequally with an unbeliever,
she must obey God first, and her husband afterwards. But
this is a situation, in which no considerate Christian female
will ever voluntarily place herself. A woman who loves
God, and desires to serve him, will never risk uniting herself
with one who is still in the darkness of unbelief. She has
no right to expect a blessing on any prayers she might intend
to put up for her partner, for God has only promised his
blessing to those who move in the prescribed path of duty.*
Who could venture to say to God — " Lord, I have disobeyed
thy commands, nevertheless, I expect a blessing upon the
forbidden step I have taken. I have married a man who
denies the Saviour who died for him; he treats with coldness
or contempt my religious profession. He considers my dear-
est hope as a wild chimera, and the object of my dearest
affections as a fabled being : and yet I expect to be happy
with him; to be able to reconcile my duty to him, with my
duty to you, so that neither will clash with the other [9} Is

* Different expositions of 2 Cor. vi. 14, are given by commentators,
but it cannot be shown that the Apostle had any special reference to
the subject otf marriage. It seems to be a general caution against all
avoidable intimacies with unbelievers, by which believers might be
enticed from the purity of their principles, or their lives, into a confor-
mity with the world. But if this should be a general maxim of
conduct, how forcibly does it apply to that most intimate of connex*
ions, tne marriage union, P.

LETTER X. 83

not this strange reasoning ? But I forewarn you, my dear
girl, that the hope of being happy in such an union is vain.

Nay I dare not even promise you security in such a state !

How can the love which is felt for an infidel, be productive
of happiness to a vital Christian ? Can a wife bear to think
of the probable doom of the man she loves ? can she love
him truly, and endure the thought of an endless separation
from him ? — Surely not. There are impediments in this
bad world to conjugal felicity, without this most insur-
mountable one. The very acuteness of sensibility which
characterizes women, operates to the destruction of their
happiness, in such a case.

The advice which I now give you, dear Mary, to curb
even your amiable feelings, will tend to prepare you for hap-
piness in the married state. When I think how much
misery is occasioned by the ungoverned sensibility of women,
I feel inconceivable anxiety to warn you on this head. Ex-
cess of all kinds is to be avoided, and we may love those
with whom we are connected in this life idolatrously, and
thus lay ourselves open to the awful penalty of God's viola-
ted law. If we love God supremely, there is no fear of our
exceeding in ihe measure of our subordinate affections; yet,
trust me, my dear girl, there is more pain than pleasure in
inordinate attachments to our kindred dust. Women are
most prone to commence conjugal life, by expecting the same
devoted attention from the husband, that they received from
the lover. This expectation will almost always be disappoint-
ed ; for when the cares and avocations of life press hard
upon the head of a family, he has not that time for cultivating
his tender feelings, that his unoccupied hours of youth affor-
ded. It is a fatal error, for a woman to suffer herself to be
soured by perceiving this inevitable change. She had far
better lay up firmer materials for domestic happiness, than
those gathered from the romance of a youthful attachment.
I have known wives make themselves completely miserable,

84 LETTER X.

because iheir husbands were wanting in some little trivial
attention, which they had been accustomed to pay the mis-
tress or the bride. That morbid sensibility, which watches
every turn of the eye, and every tone of the voice, lest per-
chance they should indicate some change of feeling, is the
scourge of both parties in married life. True affection is a
dignified and exalted feeling, that needs not such dainty
aliment to maintain it. It is supplied by a perennial flow
of vital kindness, springing from the heart, and sanctioned
by the understanding. It looks not to trifles as signs of its
existence, for it pervades every impulse, and reigns in every
action. Yet this deep and abiding love, may exist without
those exterior observances, which mark rather the requisi-
tions of the wife, than the spontaneous tenderness of the
husband. They may be exacted until they become mechan-
ical and unmeaning, if not irksome and disagreeable. Why
should it be said of women, that they are always unreason-
able in their exactions of attention and respect from their
husbands? Does not this evil sometimes arise from vanity,
which is gratified by exhibiting its power, or from a desire
of being couspicuous amongst married people less tenacious
of these observances ? I once walked in the dark after a
married couple, who little dreamt they had an auditor, and
I heard the wife reproach her husband vehemently, for his
want of attention toward her during the evening : " You
neither brought me refreshments, nor turned over the leaves
of my music book, nor asked me if my headach bad gone off,
during the party," said she. "Indeed, my dear," said the
husband, " you were surrounded by so many who paid you
these attentions, that I thought my presence would be super-
fluous. As for your headach, I thought of that, I assure
you, but you looked so blooming and handsome, that I was
in hopes you could not be suffering bodily pain." " Per-
haps," said she, quickly, " you thought me deceitful, and did
not believe in the reality of my headach ?" " O, my dear !

LETTER X. 85

how can you believe me capable of such odious suspicion, —
did I ever give you reason to doubt my perfect reliance on
your word ?" " I don't know," said she, peevishly ; * you
are strangely altered, I think ; at least I am not as happy,
or as secure of your affections, as I used to be." " O dear,"
exclaimed the husband, " this is both unkind and unreason-
able." The wife here burst into tears. " I knew," sobbed
she, " that my time of misery would soon come, but I little
thought, when I came out this evening, of hearing such bit-
ter reproaches!" "Hush, hush! my dear wife, I hear
footsteps j don't let us make ourselves ridiculous." This
made matters worse. The wife wept more bitterly, and said
that her sensibility was scorned, and her affection slighted.
How far the scene proceeded, I know not, as my way led
me in a different direction. But I frequently saw this cou-
ple, and all my observations tended to convince me, that the
lady was destroying her own happiness.

I accidentally met her one day in a store, with a radiant
countenance, looking over some newly imported goods. She
had just selected a silk, and had the dress pattern cut off,
when her husband entered. She went up to him, playfully,
and said, " Come now, admire my taste, — 'look here," point-
ing to a silk that had just been rejected as frightfully unbe-
coming, " I want to try your taste, and see if it is not
instinctively similar to mine. An't this beautiful ; and an't
this ugly ?" pointing to her own choice exultingly. The
poor man happened to be totally without taste, but he made
all possible haste to agree with her, not being aware of her
stratagem. Her brow clouded instantly. " What !" said
she, " are you serious ? — can you think this frightful thing
handsome in reality ?" " My dear, did you not tell me you
admired it?" Yes; but I concluded of course you would
understand my jest : I wanted to exhibit your taste to these
ladies." " Then, my dear, you wanted to exhibit what I
have not, and never shall have." "Well," said she, "I
H

S6 LETTER X.

had hoped you would learn of me such trifles as these; but
I see you disdain the idea of being taught by your wife : true
man ! after all my hopes that you were unlike the rest of
your sex."

I witnessed many more instances of a similar nature,
which accounted for the change that four fleeting years made
in both husband and wife. At the end of that time theyjeft
our city, and I know not what has become of them. I was
invited, among other friends, to spend an evening with them
before their departure, and I cannot give you a better lesson
on the subject of ill governed sensibility, than by narrating
circumstantially the events of the evening.

I was one of the first guests who arrived, and as I entered
the passage, I heard voices pretty loud in a side room. " You
must have your own way, to be sure, as master of the house
and of me," said the wife, " but you violate all my wishes,
and derange all my plans, by your arbitrary proceedings."
" My dear Ester," said a soothing voice, " I am not the
tyrant you represent. If I had a reasonable wife, I should
be a complaisant husband." " Ay, that is always your way,
— you lay your own faults upon me, and represent me as a
virago; when every body knows I was a remarkable sweet
tempered girl." (( I know you were, Ester; that was one
of your greatest attractions to me ; for I always thought a
good temper an indispensable requisite in married life : but
— I shall offend you if I go on." " Never mind, speak sir,"
said a whining voice — u I give you leave." " Well, my
dear wife, I will speak, with the hope of opening your eyes
at last to your greatest fault, and my greatest misfortune.
Your morbid sensibility is almost as great a scourge to me,
as a bad temper could be. You are perpetually doubting
my affection; and if you don't take care, you will yourself
fulfil the prophecy you have so often uttered, that I shall
cease to love you altogether. Pray restrain these unreason-
able feelings. Confide in my regard, instead of looking to

LETTER X. 87

every transient occurrence for proof of its sincerity ; believe
my assertion, and you will be happy. It seems to me, that
every trifle that has occurred since our marriage, has been
made to bear testimony against me; while the important
steps I have taken to promote your happiness, has been
omitted in the calculation. To go no farther back than this
night, you are reproaching me for leaving one of your ser-
vants behind, who would be made miserable by a removal i
when I am taking the most important step of my life, solely
to please you. J am quitting my own family, to carry you
among yours, because I cannot bear to hear you pine after
your mother and sisters so much. I don't know that my
interest — the interest of my wife and children, may not suf-
fer by this step." " Oh ! say no more, I entreat," said she.
"It is not too late to stop : we will not remove. I insist
on it. Never can I bear the reproach of having ruined my
family, by my ungoverned sensibilities. O, that my heart
were ossified — that I were incapable of feeling ! But I shall
soon become callous. Yes ! I feel it. I am no longer so
sensitive as I was : incessant reproaches must have their
destined — their desired effect." Here the conversation was
interrupted, by a servant's giving notice of my arrival.

The husband soon entered, and greeted me cordially.
He was pale and thin, and had a worried, harassed look ;
as if care had borne heavily on his young heart. Yet he
was prosperous in his circumstances, and possessed a nume-
rous circle of respectable friends and connexions. He was
naturally a healthy, robust man, with a cheerful, buoyant
temper. He led by the hand his eldest child, a delicate
sickly-looking boy, who has been overnursed by his over-
fond mother, till he looks like a pining exotic. I am told
she never suffered the wind of heaven to breathe on him,
and her husband had been forced, against his better judg-
ment, to acquiesce in her injudicious system of management
Presently, the wife herself appeared, languid and melan-

88 LETTER XI.

choly, with tokens of suppressed emotion, visible to my
scrutinizing glance. She had scarcely returned my saluta-
tion, when she exclaimed in alarm, on seeing her son sitting
in an open door, "Oh, my darling boy, you will catch your
death in that draught of air. How could you let him sit
there, my dear? — but you never think of these things. I'm
sure the poor child will have the croup to-night" — so say-
ing, she hurried him off: his father sighed deeply, and more
company coming in, the conversation became general.

As I have fallen upon the plan of exemplifying my pre-
cepts by sketches of character, I will begin another letter
with a contrast to this melancholy picture. Adieu for the
present, my dear girl 3 if I can save you from the foibles of
your sex, and yet preserve their distinguished good quali-
ties in your character, I shall be most happy.

Ever your sincere friend.

LETTER XI.

Picture of Domestic Happiness.

My Dear Mary,

Mr. and Mrs. Arundel have passed twenty years in happy
wedlock, and it is quite a privilege to see them in their own
home, surrounded by their numerous offspring. I spent a
week with them, a short time since, and came home with
my thoughts rich in images of beauty and virtue. Mrs. A.
is still a lovely woman; for happiness seems to have
repaired or prevented the ravages of time in her person.
Her husband's eyes involuntarily follow her, as she flits
about her household duties with a grace that would do
honour to juvenile years. It is delightful to hear this cou-

LETTER XI. 89

pie speak of each other, and give up all the merit of their
happiness to the one whom each delights to honour.

" They say conjugal happiness is rare," said the hus-
band ; " but I see no reason why it should be. If we only
follow common sense, and the Christian rule of doing as we
would be done by, there is no doubt but happiness would be
the result. We are by nature social beings, and the laws oi
God encourage us to seek happiness in social connexions ;
and yet there are dry, steril, withered old bachelors, that
will tell you, they dared not marry for fear of being misera-
ble for life. Now for my part, the idea of misery most
familiar to me, is exemplified in these very old bachelors..
They have no one to sooth the infirmities of declining years.,
or comfort nature in her most comfortless state. They
leave none behind to remember them, and talk with affec-
tionate interest of their enduring qualities. And as for con-
jugal happiness being a difficult matter, why my wife and I
will tell you how we managed the thing ! Come, Helen, let
us take a retrospect of our early life, and tell our friend the
secret of conjugal felicity." His Helen smiled sweetly, and
took her seat beside him.

" We began," said she, " by loving one another more
than we loved ourselves. This made it easier to give up,
than to persist in self-will. I well remember some of our
difficulties, however; and when I see thousands wrecked on
the same shoals, I always wish I could warn them off, by
stating my own experience. Mr. Arundel was a politician
when I married him, and I thought it a bitter thing, to see
him so taken up with what I could not understand. Often
have I been ready to complain, when he would come with
his head full of grave, statesman-like plans, instead of some-
thing pleasant and companionable. He would sit for hours
in my presence, as if he did not see me, with his mind
brooding over abstract subjects. This required a little
exertion of fortitude on my part. Here, he has taken me
h2

90 LETTER XI.

from my friends, I would say, and yet I have none of his
society. I am moped to death — what shall I do? Must I
complain, and reproach him ? O no. My heart could not
frame a reproach. I began to think that my duty required
me to submit to his will. That his reveries might be
important to other people, if not to me. O, how my heart
beat with pleasure, when I heard him applauded vehemently
for a speech, made on the very subject which had occupied
his mind so long. If I had interrupted him with my selfish-
ness, now thought I, he never would have been able to
concentrate his attention so as to excel." " But you forget,
.Helen," interrupted the husband, " how much you aided
me in my labours, by indulging my thoughtful humours, and
keeping every thing out of my way, that could possibly give
me disturbance 5 how you brought refreshments to the door
of my study, and knocked gently for admittance, and
always retreated as soon as I had partaken of your nice
cake and cordial. It used to cost me a pretty hard struggle
to let you go off, I assure you. If you had made the slightest
movement like desiring to stay, I should have kept you, and
then my mind would have been taken from the subject I was
studying." " Ah !" said Helen, " I remember shedding
some foolish tears one day, because I thought you dismissed
me coldly. But I went into my room, and prayed that God
would give me strength to bear my disappointment, if I was
indeed fated to have an indifferent husband." " And I too
was a little miffed," said he, u to think that you should
never offer to stay with me. So we were mutually under-
going the same self-inflicted trials." u I remember," said
Helen, " the first large party we went to, you were so much
occupied with politics, that you did not once approach me,
or appear conscious of my presence. A lady, famous for
her spirit of malicious observation, whispered loud enough
for rae to hear her, that you were the most indifferent young
married man she had ever seen, and that she was sure you

LETTER XI. 91

did not care a button for your wife ; shortly after the party
dispersed, and you tucked me coldly under your arm, and
carried me off, without speaking one word during our walk
home. As soon as we arrived, I left you, after bringing you
your usual evening refreshment, — you called with an absent
air for a whole candle, as you- intended to sit up all night.
I commanded myself as well/ as I Could, and bade you good
night with an unsteady vo^e.^iYou. did not reply, and I
went to bed wondering if all husbands were as indifferent as
mine." " You were a dear good creature," exclaimed her
husband, " to bear with me as you did, and 1 hope you have
since had your reward." " O yes, I have indeed ! — I have
wondered oftentimes since, whether any other women in the
world had such attentive husbands as mine. But one of my
greatest trials was, when I discovered how much we differed
about the management of our children. I was for bringing
them up very delicately, and you justly determined that
their constitutions should be casehardened. Nothing but
the strongest sense of duty could have made me submit to
this terrible act of self-denial. It seemed to me little less
than murder, to subject a delicate infant to the keen air of
the morning. I have often cried in secret, when you gave
directions for the baby to be carried out to walk." " But,
my dear Helen, though I was somewhat despotic in this,
yet I had reason on my side clearly. I was sorry for the
pain I gave you, but it was to save you from a greater suf-
fering, that I determined, by resolute conduct, to rescue our
dear children from the inevitable consequences of your inju-
dicious fondness. I always looked forward, too, to the
time when you would agree perfectly with me on this sub-
ject; being confident that your good sense would finally
prevail over your excessive fondness, so as to dictate proper
methods of management. If you had been one of those
silly women, who never give up an idea because it is their
own, I might have despaired of you; but you never were

92 LETTER XI.

self-willed. Your mistake was a natural one for a young
mother, and I felt assured it would soon be set right."
"Yes. my dear," said the happy wife, " and I owe you
infinite obligations for overruling me in this matter. I have
a sister who fell into precisely the same error of manage-
ment 5 unfortunately, her husband left her to direct, and
their children one half died in infancy, while the other half
can scarcely be said to live in manhood, their constitutions
are so slight."

I could not help mentioning to Mrs. Arundel, as she said
this, the debate I had heard between the husband and wife
mentioned in my last letter. " Yes," said she, " I know
the lady well. She is destroying her own peace, and that
of Jier husband, by her unreasonable sensibility. When
once a woman falls into the habit of exacting petty obser-
vances from her husband, she becomes as much his tyrant,
as if she ruled in all things. It has been said, that single
drops of water falling in regular succession on the head,
occasion unindurable torment. So will these petty acts of
tyranny, if regularly practised, destroy the peace of any
man. The constant puling and wailing of discontent,
always stating some trifling cause of complaint, is a misery
in itself. For a man to live always under a cloudy counte-
nance, is as bad as to be subjected to the vapour and smoke
of London itself. Women do certainly possess the power
of tormenting their partners, by such absurd conduct, but
at the same time they trifle away their own happiness.
Married people must either be happy or miserable together.
When one of your limbs is in violent pain, the rest of the
body suffers by sympathy. So it is in the mystic union of
marriage. If one party is unhappy, the suffering is cast
upon the other also, in a greater or less degree, in propor-
tion to the degree of affection entertained by the parties
for one another. There should be perfect confidence
between a married couple, and yet each should be so

LETTER XI. 93

practised in self-command, as to be able to endure pain or
sorrow, without communicating it to the other. There
should be a mutual willingness to endure each other's
burdens, and yet a mutual desire to suffer alone, rather than
impart suffering to the dearest part of oneself. One decisive
proof of the impropriety of a woman's governing her
husband, may be derived from the well known fact, that
really fine women never undertake the unbecoming task.
Those who excel in this invidious art, are generally
cunning, self-willed characters, without delicacy or refine-
ment. If a woman really loves her husband, it will give
her far more pleasure to obey him, than to govern him.
Warm affection finds pleasure in submission, and delicacy
shrinks from sway. Even where the female understanding
is the strongest, a woman of refinement is the last to admit
the fact, or to avail herself of it, by taking the power into
her own hands. It is always painful to be forced to acknow-
ledge the inferiority of that intellect, to which one has looked
for support in the arduous duties of life."

If I had before doubted these truths, my dear Mary, the
manner in which I heard them urged, and saw them
exemplified on this occasion, would have proved their cor-
rectness. In this family, there was obviously one pervading
will, so unanimous were all the desires and operations of its
united head. There was a freedom and cheerfulness among
the children, which proved that the gloss had not been
taken from nature's own light-heartedness, by the damps
and chills of discordant rulers. They were so certain that
their parents agreed on all subjects, except on those in
which they had agreed to disagree, that they never felt
afraid of pleasing one at the expense of the other. To my
surprise I found, after I left them, that one of these precon-
certed differences, was on the tender subject of religion.
Helen was a Presbyterian, her husband an Episcopalian ;
and they enjoyed themselves as Christians together, as if

94 LETTER XII.

they had belonged to the same sect. How often have I
known this very difference made an excuse for altercation
and ill-will. But where the spirit of discord prevails, it
will subsist on aliment scarce visible to common observers ;
and where it does not exist, the most important discrepancies
will fail to produce it.

I left Mr. and Mrs. Arundel with the delightful conviction
that I knew, not only one happy couple, but that I knew
how more happy couples could be made j namely, by
practising self-denial and forbearance mutually, by cultivating
disinterested affection, and resigning the dear delight of
giving pain, said by satirists to be so valuable to woman.
My dear Mary, the sex deserve many of the severest
sarcasms thrown out against them. They do not sufficiently
cultivate those virtues which their relative duties require
them to practise. Until they lay aside the desire of governing
their husbands, and learning to govern themselves, they
cannot be happy in married life. The same energies, wasted
on a mistaken aim, will suffice to produce the blessed end
of peace and happiness. O, may you profit by these
hints from

Your true friend.

LETTER XII.

On Dress.

My Dear Mary,

It would be considered a serious omission, were I to
leave out of these rules for feminine propriety, some parti-
cular strictures on the important subject of dress. A taste
for ornamenting the person is either natural to women, or
it is inculcated at such an early period as to pass current for

LETTER XIL 95

an innate propensity. Habit, in this respect as in others, is
second nature. Perhaps there is not a more glaring defect
in the prevailing system of female education, than the one
which leads, or misleads, our matrons to inoculate their little
ones with the epidemic frenzy of personal decoration. They
have the false taste to imagine, that decoration adds to infan-
tine and childish beauty; and to gratify this perverted
sentiment, they poison the minds of their offspring without
reflection.

As this folly prevails chiefly in cities, I would ask those
mothers whose lots are cast in those nurseries of dissipation,
to consider seriously the consequences resulting from this
erroneous estimate of human happiness. In the first place,
the pleasure to be derived from this source is of a most
impure character, as it arises from the gratification of vanity.
The mother, while she is decorating her child, is ministering
openly and unequivocally to this bosom sin both in herself
and in the little victim of her mistaken fondness.
* Every pleasurable emotion enjoyed by either party must
arise from gratified vanity. But the mother persists in this
evil habit until she loses her consciousness of its malignant
tendency. Jt is an undeniable fact, that even gross impro-
priety ceases to alarm the mind, when it becomes a part of
our common course of action. The mental vision, like the
outward sense, becomes familiarized to deformity by constant
contemplation ; rational beings cannot, therefore, be too
careful in investigating their own motives of action ; they
should beware of incorporating tastes and opinions too
hastily into their general routine of established and author-
ized habits. Let them examine strictly and deeply into the
direct and collateral tendency of every passing inclination
before they indulge it unscrupulously. There is sometimes
a hidden poison in the fairest looking flower.

I have often been called upon by very fond mothers to
admire the industry which prompted them to cover the

96 LETTER XII.

garments of their children with ornamental needle-work ;
and again I have heard prudent matrons accused of laziness,
or even of want of parental affection, because they bestowed
no superfluous labour on their children's clothes. No doubt,
you have often heard such sensible, judicious, far-sighted
remarks as the following : " Surely Mrs. A. must be an
indolent woman and an indifferent mother ; for her children
are dressed in the plainest manner possible; not a row of
hem-stitching nor scolloping, not a frill nor a flounce ; and
her daughters almost grown, too. — Really it gives one but
a poor opinion of her heart, to say nothing of her under-
standing, which ought to prompt a little decent conformity
with the most common usages of society.'' And again,
"What a charming, sensible, industrious woman Mrs. B. is;
and such a fond mother, too. — There were her little daugh-
ters dressed up so beautifully, and all that tedious work on
their frocks was done by her own hands, as she herself
assured me. She must be a woman of uncommon merit.
Those little girls are quite captivating — and they have such'
womanly manners ; they don't hang their heads and look
sheepish in company, like Mrs. A.'s badly brought up chil-
dren. They looked up when they were spoken to, and
answered with so much intelligence. One of them had a
row of trimming on her frock more than her sister, and I
asked her what was the cause of that difference? she replied
with a bewitching smile, "Oh, mamma gave me that row of
work, because I was a better girl than my sister; and imme-
diately the other little thing hung her head with so much
sensibility, and seemed overcome with the most delicate
emotion. What a proof of skill in management did Mrs. B.
give, by thus turning such a trivial occurrence to an impor-
tant end. No doubt, those girls will make fine women when
they grow up ; I certainly never saw more attractive children.
Their mother says she shall spare no pains in giving them
the most accomplished educations." So much for this tirade*

LETTER XII. 97

Girls should be carefully instructed in neatness andjitness
of apparel. They should be taught to think every expense
in dress culpable, that is not strictly authorized by the cir-
cumstances of their parents. Some parents are so proud,
that they will not suffer their children to mingle in society
with those who can afford to dress better than they can;
while some are so foolishly vain that they ruin themselves
to maintain an equality of appearance with the rich. Both
these errors may be avoided by the exertion of a little com-
mon sense, or common principle.

Let mothers, with whom these errors too often origi-
nate, bring up their daughters with mental qualifications
to fit them for the best company, and carefully inculcate
economical habits from childhood. Accustom them to
regard the distinctions of dress as beneath their rational
consideration, and let them go into company to enjoy an
intellectual banquet, not to vie with the persons they are to
meet in outward decoration. Instruct them to be more
ashamed of dressing beyond their circumstances, than of
being laggards in fashion and expense. Some parents in
moderate circumstances, covet expensive decorations for
their children, and contrive to get presents made them, from
their richer connexions. This is entirely wrong. A correctly
brought up girl will be ashamed to wear any thing that her
parents could not have afforded to purchase. She will justly
feel, that such an idle vanity will lead the world to cast
aspersions upon her own prudence, and what is worse, upon
the prudence of those who brought her up. Let her be con-
tent to wear such garments as can be procured for her with
a safe conscience; that is, without running in debt, or stint-
ing in something more important than apparel.

But it is utterly vain to prescribe palliatives for the uni-
versal folly of expensive dress. Until women have their
minds properly cultivated, and their principles correctly
formed, they cannot be expected to reform their evil habits.
I

98 LETTER XII.

Experience may, indeed, lead some of the present generation
to abj tire these errors, but the great part of those who are most
tainted with this disease, will carry it to their graves. Our
only hope is, to lay a firmer foundation for moral rectitude
and intellectual improvement, in the system of education to
be adopted by the rising generation. Let all those who
possess influence over their fellow-creatures unite in exerting
it both in precept and example, for the benefit of the coming
age.

There are so many things inimical to the true interests
of women in the prevalent follies of our day, that it cannot
surely be superfluous to point them out, with the hope of
final eradication. There are always two decided classes
among those who follow the multitude to do evil : namely,
the wilfully blind and the unconsciously ignorant. Let us
not despair of drawing over the last mentioned portion to
our efficient aid. There are interesting young mothers in
the circle of my acquaintance, whose countenances announce
so much gentleness and docility that I should not be afraid
to address them in the bold, fluent language of affectionate
interest. I would say, My dear young friends, you are
unconsciously nursing sin in the bosoms of your children.
All those superfluous decorations only make them more
attractive in your eyes, because you view the subject super-
ficially, and only see what appears to be an innocent expres-
sion of maternal love; but )ou surely have more regard for
the immortal souls of your children than for their perishing
bodies. Be assured, that every time you call your children's
attention to the decoration of their bodies, you virtually
administer aliment to a nest of serpents in their hearts. You
are laying the foundation for many an overt act of folly,
and many a secret pang of remorse in their young bosoms.
Ask yourselves, if your principles have been strengthened,
your understandings enlightened, your affections purified,
your moral sense cultivated, by the time and attention you

LETTER XII. 99

have spent on external decoration ? Are you really hap-
pier now, or have you any surer hopes of happiness here-
after, from having sedulously cultivated a fondness for dress ?
I do not hesitate to answer these interrogations for you in
the negative. Then why should you inculcate in your off-
spring tastes and inclinations so barren of present and future
enjoyment ? You are cultivating personal vanity, one of
the proverbial defects of your sex. You are teaching your
children a false estimate of human happiness; for it is indu-
bitably certain, that if either you or they find enjoyment in
extrinsic ornament, it must be from the gratification of an
unholy and irrational feeling. It is your duty, your first
parental duty, to open the sluices of virtuous feeling in the
bosoms of your children, and to close, with all your skill,
those which are likely to yield only bitter waters.

Are you performing this duty by cultivating a fondness
for dress ? Assuredly not. But perhaps you are about to
say, that you do not mean this taste should grow into a
passion. You intend to keep it from penetrating the heart,
or becoming one of the ruling principles of action. My
dear friends, what right have you to suppose that you can
do the work of omnipotence in arresting the current of
moral evil, when you have removed the bulwarks that
opposed it ? Or what right have you to hope that omni-
potence will aid you in picking out the seeds of vice which
you are wilfully scattering in a soil that you know to be
fertile ? Did you ever, or can you ever frame such a prayer
for divine aid as would suit your present exigencies ? Let
us hear how it would sound. " O Lord, I am inculcating a
passion for dress in my child, because my maternal fond-
ness delights in seeing it tastefully apparelled; but I pray
thee to prevent serious evil from arising out of this natural
indulgence of human weakness. Don't let my child grow
up frivolous and extravagant, though my present manage-
ment has a tendency to make her so."

100 LETTER XII.

You are doubtless shocked at this form of supplication,
and you ought to be still more shocked to think that you
have been following a wrong course without any supplica-
tion at all. O, my dear young friends, retract your errors at
once, and guard your children at every avenue of their
hearts, from the deleterious mixture of vanity and self-conceit,
concealed under every superfluous ornament about their per-
sons. Tear off those trappings : are the sweet babes less
attractive to you without them ? O no ! you love and admire
them, perhaps too much, as the Lord made them. Then
forbear to add an unnatural and factitious interest to what
is already an object of almost an idolatrous feeling.

Look at the subject in another light, my dear friends.
Truth obliges me to tell you, that your own hearts are in
danger of contamination. You have not so entirely sup-
pressed vanity at home, as to make it safe for you to traffic
much in this contraband article with others. The admira-
tion bestowed on your children encourages your own self-
conceit. Every encomium comes home with almost a direct
influence to your own heart.

Beware, or you may be lost in the pleasing labyrinth of
self-gratification, and draw the objects of your affection
after you to utter ruin. Listen to the voice of reason —
hear the arguments of experience — search the Scriptures,
and you will be convinced of your error. Life is too
short, and eternity too awful, to permit rational beings to
trifle thus with their immortal interests. Dress your
children plainly. Deny your own vanity the gratification
of seeing them adorned, and you will prevent their vanity
from growing with their growth and strengthening with
their strength. Death takes away many of these little
creatures in early years. Can you bear to think, when
your infant is wrapped in its last vestment — a shroud, of all
the needless pains you have taken to adorn the now
decaying body? Then allow yourself to think sometimes,

LETTER XIL 101

while preparing its living garments, that after all your care
and taste, it may soon be called to the plain homely vest-
ment appointed for the chambers of death.

Let us then hope, my dear Mary, that the rising genera-
tion will learn to prefer the ornaments of a meek and quiet
spirit, to those which certainly do impede the growth of these
evangelic attributes. Meantime we will strive to check the
triumphant march of that usurper of our rational privileges,
denominated " fashion."

To effect even the smallest approximation to this general
blessing, will require a strict and cordial union among the
disciples of the meek -and lowly Jesus. We must exert
our combined influence on those veteran sojourners in the
tented fields of dissipated life, who have become inured to
their own follies. Some of them may yet yield to reason
and religion. Some of them may have delicacy enough
remaining to listen to appeals like the following : If women
'please by adopting a disgusting or an indelicate costume,
it must be by exciting feelings which no modest or
refined female can bear to awaken. Another consideration
deserves attention — it is this : The woman who attracts
attention by excess of expense, or eccentricity of fashion,
invariably draws upon her the disapprobation, if not the
contempt, of sensible, respectable people. She is ivondered
at, not admired. The very circumstance of her seeking
that sort of invidious notoriety, inspires her beholders with
an unfavourable opinion of her taste, her delicacy, and her
principles.

Women of the present day are without the excuse for
indulging these follies, which existed in our country some
twenty-five or thirty years ago. Personal vanity was then
cultivated without a check; and its license did so much
gross injury to the sex, that one would suppose the present
race of women to be forewarned of its manifold dangers.
Those were days of ignorance, which God winked at; but
i2

102 LETTER XII.

now the command to repent is sounded far and wide over
our gospel favoured land. Religion has arisen, like the
fabled Phoenix from her ashes, and ignorance of her holy
requisitions is now a wilful, heaven-daring sin. The
standard of the gospel is about to be twined with our " star
spangled banner," and the charter of our liberties will be
sealed with the blood of the atoning sacrifice. We will
have no union between church and state ; but religion will be
the bulwark of our civil rights, because it will teach us the
proper way of preserving them. It has been thought
doubtful by politicians, whether our form of republican
government could endure. The best method of ensuring
its duration will be to enlist the Lord of hosts on our side.
A religious education will prepare men for becoming good
citizens, by teaching them the true value of their political
privileges; and restraining those passions which gpccasion
misrule and rebellion, when not subjected to adequate control.
At the commencement of the century in which we live,
the Christian religion had sunk to its lowest ebb in our
country. Some few families retained a sort of respect for its
outward forms, which led them to shrink from the poison
of infidelity, then wafted across the Atlantic on the tainted
gales of French politics. But the vital spirit of the gospel
was unknown and unsought among the southern people of
America. Young ladies were allowed, and even encouraged
to read works which breathed the fatal spirit of infidelity.
Voltaire's writings were much in vogue, and the numerous
imitators of his pestilent doctrines, poured forth their venom
upon the world.

But the time will soon come, when all those daring theo-
rists will be remembered only as the enemies of virtue and
happiness. Their short-lived fame is already tarnished by
the discovery that their opinions are fatal to the peace and
happiness of mankind. The enemies of religion are indeed
the enemies of the whole race of man. They would take

LETTER XII. 103

from their fellow beings the sole remedy provided by omni-
potent mercy for the variety of ills which constitute the
inheritance of man. They would shut out the healing
stream from the diseased and dying in this world, and close
for ever the golden gates of heaven upon the toil worn
pilgrims, who have faltered through their appointed course
of earthly trials, and might be entitled to a blessed inherit-
ance above.

There is something appalling to the imagination in the
contemplation of Voltaire's last moments. Yet it is a
picture which should be hung up for exhibition before the
congregated world. What unutterable horrors pervaded
his soul, when it received its final summons to appear before
its Maker and its judge. He was discovered by his attend-
ant with a book of prayers in his hand, endeavouring, with
a faltering tongue, to repeat some of the petitions for mercy,
addressed to that Being, whose name he had blasphemed.
He had fallen from his bed in convulsive agonies, and lay
foaming with impotent despair on the floor, exclaiming,
" Will not this God, whom I have denied, save me too ?
Cannot infinite mercy extend to me ?" Awful spectacle !
Where was then the fame for which he had laboured ? the
applause which had been as the breath of his nostrils?
Where were the hollow hearted flatterers whose faithless pro-
fessions of friendship had deceived him in prosperity ? Alas,
they were the first to forsake him in the hour of misery !
His last moments were attended solely by a hired menial,
who is said to have inquired, when next applied to in her
professional capacity, Whether the gentleman who wanted
her services was a philosopher? For she declared herself
unable to stand the horror of another scene like the death
bed of Voltaire, and would rather forego the emolument
than engage in such an arduous and soul-appalling duty.

What must have been the condition of that departed
spirit, when the dread realities of the future burst upon its

104 LETTER XII.

unobstructed vision? When the awful throne of an insulted
Sovereign rose in sublime majesty before the immortal soul,
on its entrance into eternity ! When the first object it beheld,
in the dread realms of futurity, \va9 the Being whose exist-
ence he had denied, whose cause he had persecuted ! And
that Being enthroned in omnipotence as his final Judge !
Let us draw a veil over the terrific spectacle.

I will conclude this long epistle, my dear Mary, by relating
an anecdote, which I think will interest you. A gentleman
of extreme good sense and piety had the misfortune to
find his only daughter, whose education he had entrusted to
a sister of his deceased wife, so much perverted by infidelity
and fashionable folly, that he dreaded to think of her probable
destiny. He had been engaged abroad, for many years, in
the service of his country, and on his return he took home
his daughter, to preside as mistress of an elegant establish-
ment. The young lady was enchanted to find a dressing
room prepared in the true Parisian taste, with an ample
proportion of mirrored surface. The walls were painted
with scenes taken from Telemachus, and over every
group of figures was a scroll containing wreaths of flowers
and mottos. These inscriptions were printed in reversed
sentences, which could only be read as they were reflected
in the mirrors. They were selected from the Bible, ajid
contained such admonitions as the following : " Commune
with your own heart, in your chamber, and be still." " Be
ye not conformed to this world/' " Keep yourself unspotted
from the world." The young votary of fashion was at
first highly displeased with these unseasonable admonitions ;
but as her father imposed no personal restraint upon her,
she determined to disregard her silent monitors. By insen-
sible degrees, however, she became fond of studying the
meaning of these sentences. They met her eye continually
in her most listless languid moments. Conscience at length
took part with these strange advisers, and the Father had

LETTER XIII. 105

soon the pleasure of seeing his daughter a sterling Christian,
by the deliberate conviction of her own reason, and consent
of her own heart.

Farewell.

LETTER Xin.

Promiscuous Dancing Assemblies.

My Dear Mary,

Such questions as the following are now frequently asked
of the professors of religion : Do you really think dancing
a sinful amusement? Are you not falling into a pernicious
extreme, when you require young converts, to resign so many
of the amusements common to youth ? Such recreations, too,
as are no way incompatible with strict morality ? Will you
not injure the cause of religion, by this over strictness?

To these interrogatories the advocates of Christianity, can
only reply, That they do not presume to impose their own
judgments upon the world, as rules of propriety. That in
forming their opinions on the subject of fashionable amuse-
ments, they have been guided solely by the Scriptures, having
obeyed a divine mandate in searching those holy records for
a knowledge of the requisitions of Christianity. I would say
to any young lady who might reproach me for thinking balls
injurious to the vital spirit of religion : My dear girl, I
do not condemn them on my own authority. It is the Bible
that teaches me the incompatibility of such recreations with
the cultivation of a devotional spirit. If you can conscien-
tiously indulge yourself in these amusements, after diligently
searching the holy Records, and prayerfully endeavouring to
understand the will of God, as there revealed to his crea-

106 LETTER XIII.

tures ; if you can comprehend the divine laws in their full,
spiritual interpretation, and yet think yourself safe in follow-
ing the world to its appropriate haunts, surely no one can
pretend to censure your practice. But at the same time I
must warn you that there is danger of your being misled in
your investigations by the advice of worldly friends. They
cannot be proper judges, and therefore they must not be
received as umpires in this question. Again I say, search
the Scriptures, what is the meaning of this precept among
many similar ones ? " Be ye not conformed to this world,
but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that
you may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and holy
will of God." I understand the first part of this sentence to
mean, that Christians are to avoid worldly practices; that is,
they are to give up such things as unfit their hearts for the
enjoyment of holy feelings, and devout aspirations ; and they
must not only do this, but they must be transformed by the
renewing of their minds. That is, they must undergo a
change or transformation from their natural state, the result
of which will be the introduction of new tastes and inclina-
tions. At first they shrink from conformity with the world,
because they are required to do so ; afterwards they become
so changed that this conformity ceases to be agreeable. The
Spirit of God brings about this change upon those who show
a willingness to abide by the imperative precept. If they
cavil at, or reject this precept, the Spirit will not renew their
hearts. But if they yield entire submission to a plain and
clear direction, they are rewarded by finding all unwilling-
ness removed from their minds, and a full and perfect
acquiescense of their own will, with the will of God, pro-
duced by divine operation.

When this comes to pass, they prove, by their own
personal experience, the sweetness and perfection of that
holy will.

But when professors of religion begin by endeavouring to

LETTER XIII. 107

establish their own interpretation of this precept of non
conformity; when they obviously shrink from its full mean-
ing, and slide in their own exceptions to each prohibitory
mandate, they are obviously not entitled to the aid of the
Spirit in renewing their minds. For example, the lover of
dancing affirms that she does not consider balls as included
in the prohibition of worldly conformity; the theatre-going
professor claims immunity for her favourite amusement.
Thus each person, according to her particular tastes and pro-
pensities, rescues her favourite pursuit from the charge of
being an unscriptural degree of conformity with the world.
When all these exceptions are aggregated, we shall next dis-
cover that the rule itself may be set aside as altogether nuga-
tory ; for if each person claims a right to follow her favourite
pursuit, the injunction " not to be conformed to the world," is
of little avail in restraining worldly folly.

Thus we find Christians still anxious to follow carnal
pleasures, because they have not been transformed in the
renewing of their minds, and have not proved the will, of
God in this respect to be good and perfect. But when pro-
fessors shew a willingness to deny themselves what has not
yet ceased to be agreeable, they will in due time find their
worldly desires subdued by the Spirit of God. We are pre-
pared to expect that some sacrifices will be required of us,
for the religion of Christ is a self-denying religion. I should
be forced to tell the young lady who accused me of over
strictness in prohibiting balls, that I must refer her to the
Scripture for my objections to that degree of worldly con-
formity which she affects to think innocent.

I have had real arguments with such persons, my dear
Mary. I have endeavoured to inure them to the plain truth
of Scripture ; and they have, as you may conjecture, evaded
my arguments in sport, or repelled them in anger.

Yet I would not again object to undertake an office fraught
with such important consequences. Can the disciple of

108 LETTER XIII.

Christianity deliberately affirm, that she takes dancing par-
ties into her regular plan of Christian practice ? I fancy,
she would shrink from such an inconsistency. And yet she
would be offended at being asked if she was without a plan
of life — a system of religious discipline.

I grant that the pursuit of selfish pleasure is natural, for
self is the idol of the unrenewed heart. But the Christian
professes to have overthrown that Dagon, and substituted in
its place the legitimate possessor of his affections. We must
then prove which of our pleasures are really selfish, and
which tend to glorify God. Few will deny the influence of
dissipation in unnerving the heart and mind. Few will
attempt to defend excess in the pursuit of pleasure. Alas !
there are monuments before our eyes in the exhibition room
of the public, which too forcibly remind us of this truth.
They show how the soul can persist in plunging deeper and
deeper into those habits which palsy its noblest powers, and
unfit it for the service of its Maker. They have gone through
life in the pursuit of the veriest baubles of this unsubstantial
scene. Life is to them but a succession of worn-out follies
and exhausted pleasures, the very dregs of which suffice to
nourish the little vitality that remains to them. They have
preyed on gaibage until they have lost all relish for whole-
some nutriment.

But we must inquire, What was the commencement
of this evil ? Every thing has a beginning. Why, my young
friends, I must say to those who are advocating their favour-
ite amusement ; they set out from the very point about which
you are now contending. Satan had no other vantage ground
in attacking them at first but the very disputed spot on
which you stand. Doubtless they too thought themselves
secure of not exceeding the evangelical Mm'iis of pleasure;
those imaginary boundaries, for which so many are now
contending. Ah! he well knows that if he can but get the
untried soul to verge on his forbidden region j to stretch

LETTER XIII. 109

forth even a thought, or a wish, towards his allotted portion
of worldly enjoyments, he has much cause to anticipate a
final triumph. These are fearful thoughts, my dear Mary.

Christ came to save that which was lost. But he will not
save us after our own plan. He will not leave us precisely
in the same spot where he found us. Oh no ! that were a
vain, a futile hope. We must follow him to his own ground,
and agree to abide with him for the rest of our lives. Where
did he find some of us ? Immersed in worldly pleasures.
What portion of those pleasures does he allow us to take
with us on the road to Heaven as provision for our journey
towards the Jordan of death ? Certainly, only such as are
favourable to the growth of that holiness, without which no
man can see the Lord. We can carry no contraband articles
into the narrow road which leadeth to salvation. As prudent
travellers in that road, it becomes us to examine our resour-
ces, and cast out whatever is unsuited to the place. Napo-
leon set up a theatre in the midst of the conflagration of
Moscow. Have we any time for vain unprofitable amuse-
ments, when we know the uncertainty of life and the cer-
tainty of a future state ?

Suppose a band of travellers, journeying together towards
a place where they had centred all their hopes of happiness;
two or three journey on and never turn aside; their thoughts
are too much occupied to be diverted by the baubles and glit-
tering things circulating around them. Two or three others,
however, must pause a little, and turn aside — for what ? asks
their alarmed company. " Oh, only to partake a very inno-
cent amusement ; you see those handsomely drest people
yonder, convened together for a dancing party; the scene is
so exhilarating, that we must join it." " But," say the sober
travellers, " we shall get before you, for we cannot stop ;
besides, you will be away at the time when we all unite in
worshipping God. We shall miss you at his altar." " Oh
no ! you must pray for us ;" say the ball-goers. " What,
K

1 J 0 LETTER XIII.

pray for those who are doing an unnecessary thing at the very
season allotted for prayer! that would exceed our privilege.
No ! If yon were serving God at some dangerous post we
would intercede for you ; but you are going where you must
forget him for a time in selfish gratification. Besides, you
are conforming to the world." "Oh ! no, no — we deny that
— farewell — we shall come back to you in safety." The
travellers move on in sadness; for w7ho can be otherwise than
sad while thinking of a fellow creature in danger or in sin.
The solemn season of prayer approaches, and these sanc-
tified spirits pour forth their effusions in peace and joy.
They breathe an aspiration for their heedless companions,
and pray that the Holy Ghost may visit their hearts with
his transforming power, and cleanse them from carnal
desires. But this night which came over them, like any
other season of rest and darkness, may be the time appointed
for the marriage supper of the Lamb. At midnight a
cry is sounded, " Behold, the Bridegroom cometh." The
watchers start from their tranquil rest, and are ready at
their post of duty. They enter with their Master, and as
the doors are closing, many tender thoughts turn back
towards the deserters from their company. Alas ! where
are those heedless revellers? What are their present feel-
ings, surfeited with pleasure, and wearied with senseless
mirth? They are perhaps tottering homewards, languid,
listless and unsatisfied; they begin to lend an ear to the still,
small voice of conscience, whose whispers had been hitherto
drowned in the noise of revelry, or repressed by the eager
throbbings of palpitating mirth. They at length arrive.
But alas ! the doors are closed upon them, and they strive
in vain to enter. " Were you not enjoined to watch ?"
asks a spectator. " Were you not forewarned, that you would
not know the precise hour of your Master's arrival ? Sure
that was enough to have kept you in place, if you really
wished to be the followers of the Lamb." But words avail

LETTER XIII. HI

nothing; facts are plain and convincing. These foolish
virgins deserted their post of duty, and lost their promised
bliss, by neglecting the admonitions of divine wisdom. In
other language, they went to a dancing party . And surely
no one will pretend to say, that diseases and death never
come to such places. The dress, the food, the drink, the
air, the hour, the sort of exercise, the train of thought, the
style of conversation, and every other imaginable conco-
mitant of such places, is inimical to the health of the body,
and the prosperity of the soul.

But some people say, that other parties of pleasure are as
bad as balls. That assemblies where dancing is prohibited,
are not at all more moral or intellectual than balls. Well,
granting that scandal is sometimes talked and mischief pro-
mulgated at sitting parties; still it appears very practicable
to make such parties profitable. People meet together at
them for the express purpose of making use of their intel-
lectual powers, and solacing themselves with social inter-
course. It may happen that these purposes are sometimes
rendered abortive by the folly or vice of one or two persons:
but yet I must affirm, that there is less expense, less display,
less emulation among the members of an ordinary meeting
for social enjoyment, than at a ball. There is always an
opportunity for rational conversation among sensible peo-
ple, for their voices are not drowned by the uproar of music
and dancing, nor their ideas jostled out of all order by the
convulsive movements of their bodies. If sitting parties, as
they are called, are not agreeable and even profitable places
of resort considered merely as relaxations, it must be
because the society which composes them is radically bad.
For rational conversation is always in their power, as their
meeting is expressly designed for the harmonious inter-
change of thought and feeling. It seems, on the other hand,
that scandal is the appropriate interlude of dancing ; for the
degree of excitement attendant on that sort of exercise is

112 LETTER XIII.

certainly favourable to the careless random expression of
every irregular thought ; and unfavourable to the calm,
steady employment of the rational powers. The high tone
of gaiety; the exuberant flow of animal spirits; the wild
flight of thought, which seems to float unconnectedly on
the winged sounds of the musical instruments, as if reason
had purposely removed every barrier, and broken down
every restraint usually imposed on the powers under her
direction : all these symptoms of misrule and disorder in
the mental department, will be found to attend parties pro-
fessedly for dancing. And surely to one who has analyzed
his own feelings at such a season, it must be apparent, that
frequent indulgences of such a nature, would resemble
licensed fits of mental distraction, and permitted aberrations
of reason in their effects upon the intellectual region of man.

"Who would like to be summoned from the ball-room to
his final audit ? What belle would be reconciled to the idea
that she was suddenly to exchange the elaborate decorations
of her ball night, and the affluent magnificence of her
dancing apparel, for her last garment, the shroud ?

And ought a rational creature voluntarily to enter a
situation from which he would be particularly unwilling to
meet his final doom ? What young lady would not shrink
with horror from the idea of falling dead in a cotillon or a
waltz ? Surely sudden death in any other situation could not
be equally appalling.

It might be said that other situations, (such as we
have mentioned, as sometimes contrasted with balls,) would
be as unfavourable scenes for the sudden close of life. But
I cannot admit this reasoning. A young lady, for instance,
may go to a silting party with the rational design of spend-
ing an evening in intelligent conversation. She may join a
group of really amiable, highly cultivated people, and if she
desires improvement, she may glean no inconsiderable
portion of it from refined and intellectual society. It is true

LETTER XV. 121

— a spontaneous service. It is, indeed, the very atmosphere
of the Christian's soul ; he can breathe freely in no other, and
the lamp of faith burns brightly only when exposed to its
vivifying influence. So far from being an irksome duty,
which is omitted whenever excuses serve ; it so dear and
valuable a privilege, that every thing that interrupts it is to
be deprecated. One reason why Christians object so deci-
dedly to balls and plays is, that these amusements occupy
those hours usually and naturally allotted to devotional
exercises. No mere sensual or earthly pleasure can com-
pensate for the privation of even one hour of. this coveted
employment. The Christian, who goes to a ball or a play,
must make a deliberate renunciation of his accustomed sea-
son of communion with his God; and he derives too much
peace and happiness from that occupation, to be willing to
exchange it for the purest earthly pleasure. It might, indeed,
be urged as an inducement, that it was only for one night
that this sacrifice would be required, and that he might return
to his devotions on the next night without impediment ; but
the real disciple of Christ has the shortness and uncertainty
of life constantly before his eyes : death is not so terrible
a thing to him, as to cause him always to shrink from its con-
templation. He might truly say, " I know not what a night
may bring forth. If I omit prayer now, I may never live to
see another devotional season. No, I cannot leave the altar
of my God for the service of the world, even for a single
evening." People who speak of worldly pleasures as being so
hard to relinquish, are, in truth, acquainted with no others.
If they were, they would not complain as they do, of the
hardship of requiring Christians to give up worldly enjoy-
ments.

Prayer is the only shield which can repel the fiery darts

of temptation; the only weapon with which the soul can

effectually resist the destroyer. It is the impenetrable

breastplate of the righteous, and a key to the treasury of

L

1 22 LETTER XV.

heaven. It is the lever which raises the soul from earth to
a near contemplation of the glories of heaven. Faith shews
us what we want, and tells us who will gratify our wants.
Prayer brings us at once within supplicating distance. The
Holy Spirit teaches us to pray. Without that instructor, we
could not hope to be heard, even for our much speaking.
Prayer is indeed an awful business to those whose souls are
not imbued with the Holy Spirit ; but to the favoured child
of adoption, the language of supplication is as sweet and
familiar as household words. Is the soul happy ? It delights
in praise and thanksgiving. Is it enthralled by sin ? Christ
came to save sinners, even the chief. Is it dark with human
sorrow ? There is one who has said, " Call upon me in
the hour of trouble, and I will help you." Does it need
any thing ? Christ has said, in plain terms, " Ask, and ye
shall receive." Has it lost any thing ? He expressly says,
u Seek and ye shall find." Does it long for the divine pres-
ence ? Let it knock, and the door shall be opened to it.
Lastly, Is it weary and heavy laden, either with sin or sor-
row ? Let it " come unto him who can give it rest."

The Apostle says, " Pray without ceasing." " Continue
instant in prayer." This obviously does not mean, that
the Christian should be always on his knees, and shut up
from society ; but it means that the spirit of devotion should
be always alive and active, so that the silent thoughts can
recur continually to the ever present God, without hinder-
ance to the movements of the body, or the labour of the
hands.

In your accustomed seasons of devotion, let your sense of
indwelling sin be strong and humiliating. Never seek to
attain self-complacency, nor fancy that your prayers are
rejected, because you feel an abiding sense of weakness and
helplessness. While we have this, we are in no danger of
trying to stand alone. The child that has never walked
across > the room without aid, is so much afraid of falling,

LETTER XV. 123

that it will not relinquish its mother's hand. This child-
like spirit of dependence is a very safe feeling for Christians
of all ages.

Remember the injunction to persevere in prayer, for
in due time you shall reap if you faint not. Any thing and
every thing is salutary that keeps up a prayerful spirit, and
brings us often to a throne of grace. This is the true reason
why adversity increases our piety. When we have a bur-
den to bear, or a blessing to obtain, we come often and
eagerly to ask it : when we are full of the good things of life,
we are apt to stay among them two much, and neglect a bet-
ter occupation. Beware of thinking that your prayers are
rejected, before you have sufficient proof of the fact. The
very means that the Lord sometimes takes to accomplish
our wishes, may have a contrary aspect at the first glance.
Thus if we pray for any spiritual blessing, the preparation
of soul necessary to introduce it, may appear to us like
taking away the little share of that particular grace that we
had before. For instance, we pray for humility, and by
and by, we are assailed by such bitter mortifications of soul,
that we think ourselves doomed to incessant strivings of the
adverse spirit. After a time, however, we begin to feel
something like a dawn of the good feeling we were seeking.
Our late conflicts of soul have subsided, and the circum-
stances that occasioned them have proved favourable to the
growth of humility. Young Christians are not aware that
the virtues they pray for, will not come at once and settle
down without a struggle in the unpropitious region of their
hearts. When they feel the strivings of the spirit within
them, they are undergoing the preparatory exercises of the
very grace they have been asking. When the fallow ground
has been plowed up, the good seed scattered, and the early
and latter rain has fallen, it will be soon enough to look for
she harvest time.

Many ask importunately, and do not obtain, because they

1 24 LETTER XV.

ask amiss. Christians sometimes abuse their privileges.
They have such confidence in the goodness of their heavenly
Father, and such faith in the efficacy of prayer, that they
waste time and energy in soliciting what heavenly wisdom
still withholds, because it would be an improper and an
unsafe possession. It is always better to strive for patient
submission to present evils, than to supplicate their removal.
Had they not been necessary trials, God would not have
sent them, (for he never afflicts his people unnecessarily,)
and being really intended to answer some good purpose, we
should endeavour to bear them patiently. Ask for a sub-
missive spirit, and leave it to infinite wisdom to decide
whether your trials have wrought their intended effect upon
your character or not. If they have, he will remove them
of himself; if they have not, be assured he will not do his
work negligently. Our murmurings under an appointed
burden, are much more likely to make its continuance
necessary, than to occasion its removal.

Some Christians are impatient under circumstances which
do not give sufficient scope to their energies. They are
ready to exclaim, " I have no opportunity of doing good,
though my desires are great." Depend on it, the Lord
knows best what is suited to our capacities. If he gives us
little outward work to do, it is a sign that we have much to
control and arrange within. Perhaps our obvious duties
are disagreeable, and we pine after others more congenial.
Now we are in the very situation to acquire the virtue of
self-denial, which is precious in the Lord's sight. He no
doubt put us there expressly for that purpose. Let us
therefore cheerfully submit, and make the best of our
adverse lot.

My dear Mary will, I trust, be witling to profit by these
hints from

Her affectionate friend.

( 125 )

LETTER XVI.

On Economy.

My Dear Mary,

One of the duties peculiarly incumbent upon your sex, in
most situations of life, is the direction of domestic expendi-
tures. Economy is both a virtue and an art ; but in either
view, it is a dignified and important branch of female excel-
lence.

Perhaps there is no household accomplishment so little
cultivated in Virginia, as a methodical arrangement of
family expenses. Young ladies are generally brought up in
utter ignorance of pecuniary transactions. The peculiar
difficulties attendant on most southern establishments, occa-
sions culpable neglect of these branches of female education.
The heads of families themselves often omit regular details
of domestic expenditures, and therefore it cannot be expected
that young girls should understand what is neither incul-
cated by precept or example. Such terrible consequences
have arisen from these flagrant omissions, that the southern
people are beginning to recant their errors j and it is
earnestly to be hoped, that the rising generation will dili-
gently cultivate the virtue of domestic economy.

I think it absolutely necessary that girls should be skilful
needle women, and also expert in the tailorlike arts of cutting
and fitting. They should peactise millinery a little, at least
so far as will enable them to dress their own bonnets, and
occasionally to make these necessary articles for themselves
or their friends. I know some deserving girls, who save a
considerable sum yearly to their families, by practising this
art in their own domestic circles. In cities particularly,
where a frequent use of such articles occasions considerable
expense, young ladies should always learn to do up and dress
Ju2

126 LETTER XVI.

their own head gear. They should do all their own needle
work, besides aiding, as circumstances may require, in the
work of the family generally. Let no one suppose that these
requisitions are unreasonable, or that they encroach too
much on the department of mental improvement. Girls
who rise early, and employ their time methodically, will
find the day sufficiently long for all rational purposes. There
is but one admissible excuse for being in bed after sunrise,
and that is, an actual inability to rise from it, because of
sickness.

I am sorry to say, that many young ladies contrive to
waste a great deal of time in dressing; that is, in the mere
act of putting on their clothes. Do not overlook this error,
•because it is apparently trifling. Many people think lightly
of faults that cannot be construed into positive lapses of
morality; but this is a great mistake. Small errors, of
constant, or of frequent recurrence, make up, collectively,
enough to detract seriously from the sum of moral worth.
Suppose you were in the habit of taking half an hour every
day in dressing, without having ever considered that you
might do this daily business as well in half the time. Just
make a calculation of the time to be saved by abridging
this operation, and ask yourself if you have been guiltless
in hitherto persisting in such a waste of life? I am sure such
a reflection would fill you with self-condemnation. Then
go on with the supposition, that the time so thrown away
might have been spent in study, in needle-work, in visiting
the sick, in earning money for charity, and, best of all, in
prayer. Do you not think it worth while to make a little
exertion at once to redeem your future days from such an
unnecessary abridgement, and to spend the redeemed time
in some one of the improving ways already suggested ?

There are nrany other ways, besides this, of economising
time, which a little reflection would make known to us.
Each individual in the world has some prevailing mode of

LETTER XVJ. 127

shortening existence, which perhaps has never been scruti-
nized or opposed. Some loiter habitually at every species
of labour, so as to dilate the simplest task, until it occupies
twice or thrice the requisite portion of time. Some others
get over their successive operations quickly enough, but
they make intervals between each employment, by pausing
a little, merely from habit, when no rest is necessary. All
these little defects may be corrected with so much ease, and
with so much benefit to individual characters, that it surely
cannot be right to live on, regardless of such practicable and
easy modes of improving morals and prolonging life.

Time is money, according to Dr. Franklin ; and I have
often wondered to see so many really good people squander
this precious possession in so many unconscious ways.

It should be the object of teachers, not only to instruct
their pupils in the usual branches of learning, but in the
methodical distribution of time. Some teachers suffer their
scholars to acquire strange tedious methods of getting their
lessons, and never seem to calculate on the time so wasted.
Surely there are compendious methods of doing all things;
and these should be taught regularly, as an important branch
of education. Little children should be watched in their
earliest attempts at serious occupation, and a foundation
laid for future habits of diligence and celerity.

With regard to the economy of money, a few simple rules
will suffice. Young ladies should always have a specific
allowance, a tenth part of which should be scrupulously
appropriated to charitable purposes. This is so seldom prac-
tised in Virginia families, that perhaps most parents will ad-
here to their old customs in this particular. The expenses
should be proportioned to the circumstances, as the shoe to
the foot. Vid. Epictetus Ench. But I do not hesitate to
affirm, that the pecuniary derangements so common at this
time among us, has arisen from an utter neglect of this precau-
tion. Girls are allowed to spend, not in proportion to their

123 LETTER XVI.

father's income, but in proportion to their own wishes, and
his measure of indulgence; they keep no accounts, and
cannot even guess at the year's end, how much they have
expended in dress. Surely this is a bad way of preparing
women to manage for themselves in the arduous post of second
head of a family. I know ready money is often scarce in Vir-
ginia families ; but if fathers cannot put cash into the hands
of their daughters, let them at least make a calculation of
what portion of their income can be allowed to each daughter,
and require her to keep her expenses within those bounds.
Let every article be valued, and the aggregate sum be made
known at the end of the year. I feel certain that some
young ladies, who now think themselves grpat economists,
(because they keep no accounts,) would find, on examina-
tion, that they spend more than they think they do, more than
is really necessary, and more than their parents can afford.

Virginia girls indulge themselves in many superfluities.
Their wardrobes are much larger than they ought to be.
They purchase new clothes, not when they really want
them, but when they see any thing attractive in the stores,
or on their neighbours. Thus they accumulate useless
apparel, until their supply becomes redundant, and they
distribute its superfluities among the poor girls of the neigh-
bourhood, thereby feeding the passion of vanity, and exciting
expensive desires in their fellow creatures.

I once heard a lady extolled over a whole neighbourhood
for having given ball dresses, from her old hoards, to five or
six poor girls. I verily believe this act of thoughtless pro-
fusion gained more real praise, than the comfortable cloihing
of double the number of helpless poor would have done.

You should be careful, my dear Mary, how you give to ■
the poor girls around you, such things as may nourish a
taste for finery. This mischief making passion has destroyed
as many women as the vice of drunkenness has destroyed
men. From the highest to the lowest, its influence has

LETTER XVI. 129

been extending ever since I knew the world. In cities
particularly, this insidious evil sheds its poison in almost
every bosom. You cannot ascertain the degree of wealth
really existing in a family from the style of dress prevailing
within its precincts. On the contrary, those who can least
afford these extravagant habits, are often the most eager to
conceal their real condition from the world, by closely
copying the style of their superiors in wealth. To look on
the females congregated for purposes of fashionable amuse-
ment, you would suppose that the most perfect equality
existed in their pecuniary circumstances ; when perhaps
(if truth could be divulged) some of them have stinted their
families in realcomforts, or plunged their unhappy parents
into debt, by the purchase of their decorations for that very
occasion.

Alas, when will the female sex acquire magnanimity
enough to practise rational economy, and to brave the
opinions of foolish people, by ceasing to emulate their
superiors in wealth.

But the mania of fashion is almost universal. Many
persons are going at large in the world at this time, whose
minds are as effectually alienated from reason by this
absorbing passion, as those of the tenants of the lunatic
hospital. This Moloch of cities has his hecatombs yearly
sacrificed on his altars, and is worshipped by creatures
formed for better things.

Oh, could women rescue their reason from the dominion
of this tyrant, how brightly might they shine in their
appointed sphere of action, shedding forth light and warmth
upon the hallowed circle of domestic peace, fostering virtue
in their quiet dominions, and imparting the dearest enjoy-
ments and richest blessings of life to their companions in
bondage !

But with such fair opportunities for usefulness, they fly
off like comets from their appointed orbits, and threaten

130 LETTER XVI.

destruction to the whole social system. One of these wan-
dering stars carries mischief and confusion in her train.
She sheds a mildew upon the intellects of her followers, far
worse in its consequences, than the fairy spells in which our
progenitors believed. A woman who is spell bound in the
circle of fashion, has literally thrown off the dominion of
reason. All her thoughts are governed by a specious
refinement in folly, which passes current for exclusive pro-
priety among her admirers. She is quoted among her
satellites as the umpire of taste. They feed her upon flat-
tery, until she becomes like the queen bee, a different sort of
animal from the rest of her species. She passes through
life without ever having known its real pleasures, and sinks
inte the grave before she has made the discovery, " that
from dust she sprung, and 'to dust she must return." Her
thoughts have never descended so low, as to touch the sur-
face of that earth, in the bosom of which she is destined to
find a home.

Religion alone teaches man the nature of his compound
being. Half dust, half deity, the mystery of his existence
defies all lights, save that of revelation. Philosophy (which
by the by can only be attained by the chosen few) refers
only to the nature of the soul. It teaches man to moralize
on the nature of his immortal part, and gives him rules for
governing the subtle essence of thought, without referring to
the constant counteraction of the mortal frame. Were man
all soul, philosophy wrould suit him admirably; but as the
case really stands, something more is requisite than phi-
losophy professes to teach. Religion provides for the
combined exigencies of soul and body. While it makes
use of the mind, it refers constantly to the mortal part of
man. It provides rules and restraints for those propensi-
ties which, springing from the sensual department, yet
involve inextricably the intellectual principle. Religion
never loses sight of mortality, but labours to supply aid to

LETTER XVII. 131

mortal weakness, while it affords light and strength to the
imperishable essence of the soul. All its regulations refer
to both parts of man's compound being, providing equally
for the two dissimilar, but indissolubly united constituents of
human existence. And well it is, that God has designed to
furnish his creatures with laws adapted to their peculiar
exigencies. He alone could have created man, and he alone
can teach his creatures the true purposes of their existence.
May these few serious reflections, draw you on to others
equally important, my dear Mary.

Believe me your true friend.

LETTER XYIT.

Importance of Little Things.

My Dear Mary,

It is a maxim with some people to disregard trifles, and
truly there is considerable wisdom in one application of this
rule. Many persons aggravate their allotted trials, by
magnifying slight causes of annoyance, until they make up
a serious sum of additional evils. Thus we sometimes see
females so full of superfluous fears and morbid anxieties,
that they can scarcely be said to enjoy life at all. One is
thrown into convulsions of terror by the sight of a mouse, or
a spider. Another mars all the enjoyment of a rural ram-
ble in summer, by her dread of encountering a serpent in
the grass. Some country girls are afraid to pass through a
field, where cattle are quietly grazing. Others are so much
afraid of lightning, that the whole summer passes over with-
out being enjoyed by them.

Now these trifles, as they are thought by those who

132 LETTER XVII.

indulge them, are in my opinion of sufficient importance to
be subjected to the control of reason. It is one of the curses
denounced upon the wicked in Scripture, " to be afraid
where no fear is." I know some ladies who are so much
terrified in a carriage, that it is a pity they should ever need
such a method of transportation.

But there are other trifles which sometimes annoy fasti-
dious ladies exceedingly. They are overcome with disgust
upon any little breach of delicacy or refinement in the
unpolished part of society. They have their comfort
destroyed by a peculiar tone of voice, or mode of expression.
Some of their associates are given to certain freedoms of
speech or manner, which overwhelm them with disagreeable
sensations. These delicate, sensitive people, cannot endure to
witness human suffering. A fellow creature might be in the
last agonies, and they would leave them to expire unaided,
rather than undergo the least suffering on his account. It
is true, that these evils arise from small beginnings ; but
that very reason aggravates, instead of extenuating the folly
of those who indulge them. For if the propensity is slight
at the commencement, it is the more easy to subdue.

But self-indulgence is natural to the unrenewed heart.
Those persons whose sensibilities are easily excited, shrink
from such scenes as are calculated to excite them, without
being aware that duty requires them to subjugate these
unreasonable excesses of feeling. Women are in their pro-
per sphere, when they are alleviating human suffering by
administering remedies to disease or soothing, the bed of
sickness by tender and watchful attentions.

When they shrink from these appropriate duties, on the
plea of inordinate sensibility, they are practising culpable
self-indulgence. A little exertion at first, will overcome
these excesses of sympathetic feeling, and qualify the gentle
and tender sex for performing offices of infinite importance
to their suffering fellow beings.

LETTER XVII. I33

I have known women whose appearance indicated the
extreme of feminine delicacy, and even cowardice, who
could vie with the most robust men in ministering to sick-
ness and suffering. These females no doubt commenced
their career of usefulness by steadily denying themselves
the indulgence of their sensibilities, and practising severe
self-command when their sympathies were excited.

But I will allow, that there are other trifles in this world,
which it behoves us to cater carefully as legitimate means
of enjoyment. These are sometimes overlooked by those
very persons who allow themselves to be discomposed by
trifling causes of discontent. Women may add materially
to the sum of earthly happiness, by gleaning up those small
sweet courtesies of life, which often escape the notice of
ambitious spirits.

Trifles may exhilarate the spirits, and move the soul to a
moderate degree of mirthful enjoyment. Trifles may unlock
the fountain of human sympathies, and call forth refined
and delicate sensations. A beautiful flower, a refreshing
breeze, a summer shower dimpling the crystal stream, or
the hush of its falling drops on the broad leaves of the forest,
may awaken feelings of exquisite enjoyment.

The calm beauties of a summer sunset, the appearance
of the blue heavens reflected in some immeasurable depth
of waters, the evening song of birds, or the vivid freshness
of dewy morning — these, and the thousand lender thoughts
that sweep through the soul when we meet with those we
love, and hear the first greetings of affection, — even the
circle around the hearth in winter, which gives a home
breathing sense of confiding affection : All these, and more
than my pen can pourtray, are among the trifles which we
may legitimately covet, with the more important blessings
of life. There is no merit in rejecting these minor pleasures.
They are destined to fill up the blanks inevitably occurring
in our catalogue of earthly joys. They keep up a perennial
M

1 34 LETTER XVII.

flow of gratitude to heaven, in the heart that recognizes the
omnipotent Being as the author of all its blessings. They
are the small change of happiness, and should be counted
among the golden ingots of prosperous life.

Remember then, dear Mary, that true Christian philo-
sophy prompts us to pass over all obnoxious trifles, and to
gather up those that belong to human happiness. They
are but fragments from some divided blessing, and are as
valuable as the diamond sparks that fall from the chisel of
the lapidary. No particle of genuine good should be lost,
where evil is ever abounding. Let nothing escape you, in
catering for those you love, my dear girl. I have known
happiness most skilfully imparted by some of those genuine
spirits, whose benevolence is always awake, to the sick and
the low spirited, by a careful selection of these unobtrusive
occurrences.

Some persons have a keen perception of the ridiculous,
which enables them to extract amusement from trifling
absurdities. This talent is not desirable ; for it is usually
united with unamiable qualities. Yet it is natural for even
the good-humoured and benevolent to laugh at a ridiculous
occurrence, though it may place a beloved person in ludi-
crous circumstances. But the good-tempered will only
laugh spontaneously ; the ill-natured will drain the joke to
the very dregs; and enjoy it the more when they see it
gives pain to others. Nothing can be a surer indication of
an unamiable heart, than a propensity to dwell on disagree-
able subjects, before those to whom we know they will give
pain. Some will do this, even to their friends. But a good
heart will shrink from inflicting pain on an open and
declared enemy. May these remarks prove both agreeable
and useful to you, dear Mary : be assured they come

from

Your true friend.

( 135 )

LETTER XVIII.

Sabbath Privileges.

My Dear Mary,

And who shall say to the children of God, that the day
especially appointed for heavenly communion, is a day of
tedium and weariness ? That the season of holy rest from
the toils and perplexities of life is unwelcome to the way-
worn pilgrim ?

None, surely, but those whose hearts have never glowed
under the influence of divine love, nor felt the blissful secu-
rity of heavenly protection. But the Christian feels in his
heart's core, the obligation due to infinite mercy, for the
institution of the Sabbath. His spirits are invigorated by a
constant dependance on that mercy, and he delights in the
full, free exercise of all his spiritual prerogatives. As the
adopted child of the Most High Being, he enters his Father's
presence with holy joy, for it is there only that he fully
participates in the high and holy privileges annexed to his
peculiar condition. To unregenerate beings, these feelings
are utterly incomprehensible. We might as reasonably call
on the blind man to admire the hues of the rainbow, as on
the unconverted man to participate in our religious enjoy-
ments. These things are spiritually discerned; and until
the voice of Omnipotence exclaims, as at the creation, "Let
there be light !" the mental vision is without the power of
perception. Some Christians reproach their unbelieving
friends for not enjoying the Sabbath. Alas ! they should
rather pity the state of the unregenerate, and intercede on
their behalf in their privileged seasons of communion with
their God. That dread insensibility to holy things, which
pervades the unconverted soul, should awaken our keenest
sympathy. Most of us can remember when we ourselves

136 LETTER XVIII.

endured the same self-inflicted desolation. All of us should
reflect, that the work of regeneration, which we have expe-
rienced, was an especial and unmerited mercy. The same
God can, in his own time, call others from darkness into
light as he called us. This mercy we can still hope for and
pray for, when we are inclined to despond over the be-
nighted state of those we love. Our's is the religion of hope,
and every address to heaven recalls to our minds the full
value of the unspeakable gift we have received, and awakens
a trust which banishes every preconceived cause of fear,
either for ourselves or for others.

Man, in his natural state, has a will confined and limited
like his essence, to his own identity, preferring itself to all
the world, and to God himself. From this distinct, selfish
will of the creature, arises both natural and moral evil. Its
constant craving after the gratifications of its instinctive
wants, produces those passions which deform the human
character, and which produce (where they operate) a state
of anarchy and misery resembling the punishment of the
wicked in another world. But when God, in his mercy,
condescends to instil into his creatures any portion of his
own benign and virtuous will, he calls forth their affections
from self, and diffuses them over a wider circle. By this
process of diffusion, they are gradually meliorated and sweet-
ened, until they become sources of rational enjoyment.

Short-sighted reason is apt to wonder, that an omnipotent
and infinitely merciful being should have suffered moral evil
to deform this fair creation ; but when we recollect that the
chief end of this very creation is to glorify its Author, our
wonder must cease. Had it not been for the existence of
moral evil, the creature never could have been made to feel
properly its dependence upon the Creator. Had all the
heavenly attributes been imparted to man, even in subordi-
nate measure, he would have claimed equality with God, as
the rebel angels did in heaven. But the existence of sin

LETTER XVIir. 137

holds the creature in due subordination to the Creator. He
can punish, and he can pardon ; therefore, both fear and
love are exercised towards him. Had man never fallen,
the most transcendant attribute of Jehovah, his mercy,
would not have been developed, and Christ would never
have descended from heaven to bless the earth with his
presence. The existence of sin, therefore, has brought
fully to light the most glorious attributes of God, and re-
deemed man feels a love and adoration for him, which he
could not have rendered to any thing short of a Saviour. It
is to him we owe our escape from final misery ; therefore
our love and gratitude are perpetually in exercise towards
him : and the practice of these virtuous feelings ennobles and
enlarges our nature. Unregenerate men cannot feel these
emotions ; their thoughts and wishes centre in self, or if they
diverge from that rallying point, it is only to pursue some
modification of selfish enjoyment, a little farther from the
soul's abiding place. But the creature could not have been
brought to comprehend its own relative situation in life, had
it not experienced that lapse from virtue which exposed it
to the just wrath of its Creator. It could not, otherwise,
have been made sensible of the darkness and dependence of
its creaturely state, nor could it have known the dreadful
consequences of falling off from God, had not a specific
example of these consequences been ordained by heavenly
wisdom. Thus it is clear, that many precious blessings
have arisen out of the evils incident to our imperfect state.
God has been reconciled to his lapsed creatures, in a man-
ner which opens all the sluices of virtuous feeling in their
hearts, and for ever establishes, on a sure foundation, the
nature of their future intercourse with their reconciled
parent. The convicted sinner dares not, and he desires
not, to quit that being who has taught him the value of hea-
venly mercy, who has given him a remedy for human evil,
and opened before his eyes a future state of blessedness.
m 2

138 LETTER XVin.

To Christians, my dear Mary, the Sabbath is always
welcome. Whatever may be their worldly pleasures, the
day appointed for devotional rest is hailed with joy, for it
gives them time to pour forth their tribute of grateful adora-
tion, without infringing on worldly duties. The Bible is
their appropriate study on that day, a book that has dissemi-
nated more truth, and wisdom, and peace, than all the
writings of genius and philosophy. On this day, the rich
and prosperous must feel the worth and importance of
religion; but its full value is known only to the poor and
unfortunate. What would the ignorant and indigent part of
mankind have done with philosophy for their sole guide, a
thing utterly unattainable by them ? I am convinced, that
people of the higher classes, who never feel the weariness of
body attendant on severe labour, have not, with all their
refinement, as high a zest for the holy day of rest, as the
pious poor are blessed with. The impartiality of God is
little understood by his creatures. Many of them think
themselves particularly favoured by outward circumstances,
when if they could but understand the feelings of the hum-
blest disciple, with the scantest portion of visible good, they
would find an equal or a greater measure of spiritual
enjoyment.

The labouring poor require bodily as well as mental rest.
This doubtless enhances their pleasurable participation of
the day of holy leisure. How much human misery is pre-
vented by this one dhine ordinance. In a Christian land,
the harshest and most remorseless tyrant, dares not entirely
deprive his dependant or his slave of Sabbath privileges.
Public opinion restrains even the vilest despot in some mea-
sure, and civil institutions require some attention to divine
laws. What would be the condition of the lower classes of
society, if mankind were left to their own choice in appoint-
ing a day of rest? Small indeed would be the portion of

LETTER XVIII. 139

time allotted to the exhausted frame of the slave or the hired
menial, for the purpose of refreshing worn out nature.

But to the Being who made man, and ordained that he
should depend chiefly upon his Creator for every mitigation
of the penalties of guilt, the least conspicuous and the least
attractive being in the universe, is as important, as much
under his guidance, and as much entitled to his aid, as the
monarch on his throne.

God is no respecter of persons, according to our modes of
discrimination. The humblest and most contrite heart is
nearer to his favour, than the most exalted potentate on
earth.

We sometimes complain that we have difficulty in enter-
ing the presence of our heavenly Father; that is to say, we
cannot realize his presence in prayer, by a lively exercise of
faith. This difficulty proceeds from our habit of exalting,
instead of depressing, our minds during actual worship. The
Lord dwells in heaven, it is true; and we think it necessary
to lift up our thoughts, before they can find him in his exalted
dwelling place. But he also visits the lowly, self-abased
heart — the meek contrite spirit. Therefore, we shall be
more certain of enjoying his presence by debasing, than by
elevating our thoughts in the season of prayer. It is not
always necessary to feel the peace which passeth under-
standing in our devotions. Some people thick that devout
exercises have done no good, unless they have diffused over
our souls a delightful repose of spirit. But though this is a
transcendently pleasant state; yet if we remember that we
are still weak and erring creatures, and liable to daily lapses
from virtue, we must expect to feel sorrow for detected sin,
and remorse for continued offences against heavenly good-
ness. If we always felt peace during our devotions, it must
necessarily be sometimes a false peace ; for as we still sin,
we should still keep up the exercise of repentance within us.

140 LETTER XIX.

Therefore, when we are sorrowful and cast down with
humiliation in the season of prayer, we must suppose that
the Spirit of God is with us, as much as when he conde-
scends to diffuse peace over our souls. These visitations of
the Holy Spirit are certainly not as agreeable ; but for
aught we know, they may be more profitable than those
delicious feelings which sometimes accompany the exercise
of prayer.

Be not discouraged then, dear Mary, if a cloud sometimes
lowers over you in such seasons. It may be, like the summer
cloud, dark indeed to the eye, but carrying the fertilizing
shower in its bosom.

Ever yours.

LETTER XIX.

On Conformity of Manners to the Period of Life which
we are passing.

My Dear Mary,

There are peculiar tastes and inclinations attendant on
every stage of human existence, and I may add, peculiar
follies and faults. Youth may be vain, thoughtless, and
dissipated. Middle age, proud, obstinate, and self-willed.
Old age, avaricious, peevish, and self-indulgent. It is true
that these foibles sometimes belong indifferently to all
periods, and are indifferently the characteristics of young
and old 5 but generally speaking, the allotment is pretty
much according to my enumeration. People are very apt
to imagine, when one folly makes way for another as they
advance in life, that they are getting rid of their besetting
sins by the natural operation of time upon the character.
They are quick-sighted enough in perceiving the departing

LETTER XIX. 141

evil, but entirely too blind to discern the one that takes its
place. Nay, sometimes they give themselves great credit
for having conquered some predominant fault, when it has
literally died a natural death.

Women are peculiarly prone to this species of self-delu-
sion, perhaps because they love to take credit to themselves
whenever they can. I once heard a lady congratulate her-
self with great complacency on having conquered a prevailing
fondness for fine clothes ; when the fact was, she had grown
too old to adorn her own person, and had transferred the
passion to another department of self-indulgence. She laid
out all her money in fine furniture, and adorned her house
instead of her person, while she continued to spend just as
much on the one folly as she had spent on the other. Some
old ladies praise themselves wonderfully for personal
economy, when all the time they lay out the same sums on
their childern, that they once did on themselves.

Women who live in large cities, particularly who move
in what is called " par excellence" the first circle, (that is,
the wealthiest,) are beset with one folly from which females
in the country are happily exempt; I mean, the habit of
prolonging the passion for personal decoration, far beyond
the prescribed limits of youth or middle age. It is difficult to
grow old with dignity, and to slide gracefully over the barriers
erected by custom between the different periods of life.

Some females exhaust their ingenuity in retaining, or
appearing to retain, the fugitive graces of youth long after
nature has dismissed them from their post. Their roses
continue to bloom over the mellow tints of autumn, and even
amid the frosts of wintry age. They still remain votaries
of fashion, and worship at its shrine with an assiduity
worthy of a more rational service. This is a melancholy
view of human nature, but nevertheless we are sometimes
compelled to witness it,

142 LETTER XIX.

I was one day walking the streets of a city, when I per-
ceived just before me an exceedingly juvenile figure enve-
loped in a cloud of rose-coloured drapery, with towering
plumes in her wide spread bonnet. I followed her elastic
movements some distance down the street, when she sudden-
ly turned and disclosed to me, not the bloom and dimples of
fifteen as I had anticipated, but a face that I well know had
reckoned more that fifty winters. A quantity of artificial
curls and rich lace softened the effect of age considerably in
her face, but there were distinct traces of the heavy foot-
steps of time, in what had once been dimples, notwithstand-
ing the almost natural roses that slept in those little dells
within her cheeks. But she had that cold, rigid look that
late hours, and mispent days, invariably give the faded, jaded
votary of fashion. Her eyes were dim and sunken, yet
there were signs which plainly indicated that their fires
could be still recalled to give interest to her countenance,
when she wished to put forth the relics of her charms.
A near-sighted glass hung dangling to a chain around her
neck. Had I seen this lady suitably dressed, in grave
colours, without flounces and feathers, with a matronly
cap surmounted honestly by a pair of spectacles, I should
have felt much more respect for her character, than I
did under the appearances I have described. Her dress
was an index to her mind, and I certainly perused nothing
in that table of contents, which made me wish to unclose
the volume, and penetrate deeper into her intellectual
resources.

Time inevitably bears away personal graces ; but it gives
to the mind what it takes from the body, if proper use is
made of the opportunities possessed by rational beings.
Female beauty is indeed evanescent; but it is truly melan-
choly to observe the ingenuity that is wasted on endeavours
to prolong its natural term of existence. If half that inge-

LETTER XIX. J 43

nuity were used in another way, namely, in furnishing the
mind with appropriate graces, those of the body would pass
away without regret, for their place would be supplied by
far better things. Nothing gives a more unfavourable opinion
of a lady's understanding, than an insight into those little
futile expedients so commonly used to veil the ravages made
by time on the human lineaments. A truly sensible, and
above all, a pious woman, never shrinks from disclosing to
the world every token of her progress towards the final con-
summation of all things. She never, for an instant, suffers her
mind to soar above that earth in whose bosom she will one
day repose ; except when her thoughts go before her into
that heaven, which is to be the home of her soul. A truly
wise person always retains a perception of the relative value
of the two portions of his being. He ever keeps in mind
that the one is to perish inevitably, and the other to exist
for ever. Therefore, all his rational powers are exerted to
prepare his soul for its immortal doom, while his body is
just kept as comfortable as circumstances will allow during
its little span of existence. But the generality of mankind
reverse this rule, and foster the frame of dust, as if its value
was greater than that of the never-dying spirit. They pam-
per it with luxury, and adorn its exterior, without at all
remembering its final destination.

I would advise you, my dear Mary, to keep in view,
always, the perishing nature of your mortal body, and not
to waste upon it more than is absolutely essential to decency
and comfort, either in food or clothing. But you must, of
course, make allowances for the different situations in life,
and consider the exact degree of personal economy that can
be practised, without incurring the charge of strangeness and
oddity. An example, to be really useful, must not be
exaggerated, or unreasonable in its requisitions upon public
opinion. Too much innovation on established practices
will excite ridicule, and open the way for the charge of

144 LETTER XIX.

enthusiasm, a thing much deprecated by narrow-minded
people who do not understand the term, and are not aware
that a well directed zeal opens many paths to usefulness,
which common plodders in the beaten track of custom would
never have discovered.

But there is an enthusiasm that is really dangerous to the
interests of the cause it advocates. When a weak head is
acted upon by strong passions, and a vivid imagination, it
sometimes devises expedients utterly impracticable as gene-
ral rules, and perhaps so strange in their nature, as to
excite the ridicule of ordinary minds. And the enemies of
religion are never better pleased, than when they can affix
the charge of imprudent and enthusiastic zeal to the active
followers of Christ. It is their invariable rule to transfer
the faults of professors to the principle they profess, and
thus religion bears the stigma of every error committed by
those who advocate its doctrines. This should make Chris-
tians particularly careful to govern their practice by reason,
and to refrain from what is obnoxious to the world, in
every point where such reservations are conscientiously
practicable.

I once knew a very pious lady, whose abhorrence of all
waste and luxury in apparel was so great, that she would
not let her infants wear any sort of a border to their caps.
Her husband was wealthy, and he purchased for her a car-
riage, which, on its arrival, proved far too handsome and
costly for her use. One of her friends offered to change
with her, and she actually consented to give her handsome
new equipage for an old, rusty carriage, that had been many
years in use.

These two examples, though they came from one who
was beloved and respected for her true piety, yet made
rather an unfavourable impression on society. Religion is
the scape-goat with worldly people, who cast on its devoted
head, all the offences committed by mistaken zeal, or hike-

LETTER XX. 145

warm faith, or hypocritical profession. They affect to think
that Christians profess to become perfect, as soon as they
enlist under the banner of Christ, and therefore they take
upon themselves to prove that this is a mistake. In proving
this, they drag in all the evil deeds of nominal professors,
and of sincere, but young and weak Christians. Now it is a
little hard, that the world will not understand our funda-
mental doctrine ; namely, that man is a sinner, and that
religion must operate a long time on his character before
he can attain any sort of moral worth. But enough of what
every body knows full well already. I advise you, my dear
girl, to glide gently through your appointed term of life,
resigning successively, such pursuits as are unsuited to
declining years.

Bear ever in mind, that death is inevitable. Reflect on
this subject habitually, and you will soon cease to be over-
awed by it. Death ought not to be an appalling subject to
the Christian. If it is so with you, be assured that some-
thing is wrong in your mind. Seek out this something, and
pray over it, until you can endure to think of your latter
end without alarm.

I am truly yours.

LETTER XX.

On the Distribution of Time,

My Dear Maky,

There is nothing more important to a female, than the

habit of distributing her time among her many avocations,

so as to give to each one its allotted share, and no more.

The period assigned to education is so short, with your sex,

N

146 LETTER XX.

and custom sanctions their attempting so many acquisitions,
that I fear, with all possible industry and method, they
must fail in some of their undertakings. Again, when
women marry, their occupations are so various, their duties
so comprehensive, (at least in our southern country,) that it
is difficult for the most active and diligent to perform thera
all satisfactorily. I have felt deep compassion for young
women, when they have found themselves suddenly, and as
if unexpectedly thronged with occupations, so various and
so uncongenial with taste and habit, that their strength has
failed under the burden.

This happens not unfrequently among us in the present
day, in consequence of our very erroneous methods of
female education. Our young women are put to school for
a few years, during which they acquire a mere smattering
of various fashionable accomplishments, without consulting
nature or taste. They come home with a taste for dress,
and sometimes for dissipation ; a thorough repugnance to
homely occupation, and a great relish for sentimental read-
ing and conversation. By and by they marry, and for a
short period, the romance of their situation maintains the
freshness of feeling and a zest for life ; but presently an
avalanche of care comes in the form of household and mater-
nal duties. The poor victim struggles with her adverse
destiny for a time, and gleans from the multitude of her
employments such as are best suited to her taste, while she
gives her energies honestly to the discharge of her duties.
But every thing in this department is new to her. She mis-
manages her children and servants from sheer ignorance.
Her temper is soured, and her health affected, so that a few
brief years of this sort of martyrdom often transforms the
blooming, joyous girl, sportive as the summer bird, into a
melancholy, moping, sad-visaged matron, with whom life
is dull, flat, and unprofitable, even in its spring tide.

This is a melancholy, but a faithful picture. Let us turn

LETTER XX. 147

from it to contemplate what may be, when mothers recover
from the epidemic mania of having accomplished daugh-
ters. At present, they educate their children as they build
their houses, after some plan of beauty, without reference to
utility. They forget that the houses are to live in, and the
children to be made subservient in some way to the rational
purposes of existence. All future views are lost in the
present gratification of having something to admire them-
selves, and to attract admiration from others.

People forget that their children are not playthings, but
accountable beings. When they remember this important
fact, and act accordingly, all things will be rectified.

Those who have many things to do, may by diligent prac-
tice acquire the habit of gliding from one occupation to
another, without stopping between them. Some heads of
families are always deficient in some part of their routine of
duty, and this evidently arises from want of method in
arranging their different employments.

We should always bear in mind the value of time, as a
talent intrusted to us by supreme Wisdom, for the purpose
of promoting his glory. There is a portion of every life
laid waste by unavoidable causes : Sickness, that inevitable
impediment to pleasure and profit ; weariness of spirit
from disappointed hope, or that deep sorrow of heart which
paralyzes every feeling. In short, each individual has some
peculiar disqualifying circumstance to contend with, in
making the most of his little span of human existence.

One of the greatest of these evils, is a certain nameless
state of mind and body, a sort of contest between the flesh
and the spirit, which seems to monopolize both, to the
exclusion of all customary sensations. It would be terrible
indeed were this habit to extend itself over the rational
faculties, so as to chain them in its spell. But fortunately
this state of feeling is so unpleasant, that every one knows

148 LETTER XX.

how to struggle against the incubus, with every power
which can be arrayed against it.

I was much pleased in conversing with the daughter of
my friend Emilia, to find that she had laboured successfully
in forming a methodical arrangement of her time. I
observed a book in her work-basket one day, when she was
sitting near me, and on asking what she was studying, she
told me that it was her custom to have some useful author
always at hand to fill up the spare fragments of her time.

u I always find," said she, " some little interval between
the changes from one occupation to another : this is what
is generally called l loitering time,' and I do not see why
such ( fragments may not be gathered up, so that nothing
may be lost.'

a I generally keep in my basket some serious book, from
each sentence of which may be gleaned some salutary
instruction. A moment suffices to take a text for one's
thoughts while walking to and fro, or sitting still at needle-
work. Nothing tends to improve the mind more than
watchfulness over the thoughts, to keep them from running
after unprofitable subjects. Few persons reflect seriously
on the habitual occupation of their thoughts. If they were
to scan their own reflections closely,, they would often be
startled at the dreadful misrule which prevails in the intel-
lectual realm. There is great benefit, too, in systematic
reflection on the subject of death. I used once to be a
coward under bodily pain, but I soon learned that sickness,
rightly considered, was a season of improvement; and this
comforted me under some otherwise very afflicting dispen-
sations. I now struggle against bodily pain as long as I
can; but when it casts me down, I endeavour to profit by
the humiliation. I think of the time when the frame will
be dissolved into the elements that it is composed of, and
the imperishable spirit, released from its moorings, will

LETTER XX. ' 149

enter the realms of bliss. I consider every season of bodily
prostration as a message or warning to the soul, to loosen its
hold on the things of time, that its grasp may not be too
rudely shaken off in the last conflict. Such reflections are
at first awful ; but after a while they become sweetly soothing.
The spirit holds closer communion with its God, when the
walls of its clay tabernacle are shaking under the earth-
quake which is destined finally to overthrow it. Then the
Lord appears as he did when he put forth his hand to Peter,
to still the shrinking tremors of his spirit." These obser-
vations were doubly interesting to me, you may suppose,
when I contemplated the blooming youth of the person who
made them. Scarce treading the threshold of busy life, h»er
fresh and unwearied spirit had soared away on the wings of
faith, to anticipate the glories of eternity.

I learnt from Emma, that she was indebted to Miss
Hannah More's works for some of her most lucid views of
divine truth. " That venerable mother in Israel," said she,
has disseminated scriptural truth widely and clearly through
the world. Her ' Practical Piety,' and l Christian Morals,'
have done incalculable good to the cause of religion. Her
chapter on Small Faults and Virtues searches the human
heart to its inmost depths. I glean from this magazine of
pious maxims many valuable thoughts to fill up my medita-
tive hours.

"Miss More's style is objected to by many persons, but
to me it has peculiar utility, as it does not abstract my
attention from the pure and salutary lessons of wisdom, of
which it is the vehicle. Her chapter on e Self-examination*
opens every avenue of the mind to full and free investigation.
I read it generally once a month, and treasure up its maxims
as rules for practice."

This eulogium upon my friend and guide, Miss More,
gave me great pleasure. Some people complain that all
abstract morality is dry, and hers peculiarly so, from the
n2

150 LETTER XX.

measured monotony of the style. But her expositions of
scripture morals are so pure and clear, and at the same time
so comprehensive, that they apply to every possible exigency
of human life. I cannot offer you a better guide, my dear
Mary, in your researches after divine truth and practical
wisdom, than the writings of this truly evangelical woman.
Procure a copy of them, (there is one just published, both
full and cheap,) make it the associate of your Bible, and
read a portion of her wisdom along with the sacred volume.
Young Christians must beware of turning aside from reli-
gious books, even to works of science, and interesting history
or biography. The graces of the christian character must
be sedulously cultivated, or they will languish, for human
nature is not their favourite soil. As well might you expect
your garden to yield abundant fruits and vegetables with no
more culture than simply scattering the seed, as to look for
the lively product of faith from a heart choked up with the
trash and rubbish of the world. Read the biography of
pious women with attention ; procure the Memoirs of Mrs.
Graham, Lady Glenarchy, Mrs. Huntington, Mrs. Ramsay,
Mrs. Judson, Miss Smelt; and also the biography of pious
men, such as JNewton, Scott, Legh Richmond, Urquhart,
Buchanan, Henry Martyn, and Henry Kirk White. Let
these books be the constant themes of your thoughts. To
these add Mason on Self-Knowledge, Baxter's Saint's Rest,
Doddridge's Rise and Progress, Dnvight's Theology, Wilber-
force's Practical View of Christianity, Davies' Sermons,
Irving and Chalmers, with some others, and you will have
a rich mine of intellectual and spiritual wealth, of far more
value than the wealth of Golconda or Peru.

Adieu for the present.

( 151 )

LETTER XXI.

Manners the Result of Intellectual Cultivation,

My Dear Mary,

In all the old fashioned works intended exclusively for
female improvement, you will find specific rules for female
manners and behaviour, drawn up with methodical gravity.
But this department of our education is now left to result
from the general effect of mental improvement. Women
are not told how they must look, and sit, and walk; but
they are first supplied with ideas, and then expected to find
out their own modes and fashions of behaviour. To give a
girl explicit rules for exterior deportment would be to make
her a thing of artifice — a very automaton. This is an age
of better taste, and accordingly the manners of women are
left to establish themselves, not after any formal model, but
as individual taste may direct. Yet in a work professedly
intended to give rules of feminine propriety, it may not be
proper wholly to omit directions for the exterior deportment
of the sex.

All affectation is in bad taste, and if it interests and
pleases at all, it must be among persons of singularly bad
gout in female manners. Generally speaking, the effect of
such things does not repay one for the trouble of being
laboriously artificial. All acting is tiresome, and then there
is always a risk of sliding imperceptibly into natural man-
ners, or falling abruptly into old familiar movements, which
produce a very incongruous effect. Better be always natural
than incur the risk of being unmasked before the world.
Sprightly girls should carefully guard against levity, and grave
ones against an excess of reserve. The first is the worst and
the most common extreme ; but it is wrong to let cheerful-
ness degenerate into boisterous mirth. Those who are

152 LETTER XXI.

extravagantly gay at one time, are generally proportionably
dull at another. Nothing is more desirable than equable
spirits. Do not suppose that the spirits are to be left to
their natural tendency. They require some discipline to
bring them within the bounds of reason and christian pro-
priety. A very gay temper requires to be chastened into
becoming sobriety. A solemn mood, on the other hand,
must be encouraged to relax into moderate cheerfulness.

Youthful gaiety of heart is very fascinating before it loses its
vernal freshness; but enough usually befalls the sex between
the cradle and the hymeneal altar, to still the wild tumult of
animal excitement. And this is not amiss, though we are
tempted into sentimental distress on the subject, when we
consider it superficially. Juvenile gaiety is something like
the laughter which Solomon compares to the crackling of
thorns under a pot. There is more imaginary than real
attraction in it. The world does not furnish legitimate fuel
for the blaze of youthful spirits. The sooner therefore it
subsides into rational cheerfulness, the better for all parties.
That sort of gaiety is rarely intellectual, and we should
never encourage a frame of mind that stifles the operations
of the intellectual powers.

The intercouse between young persons of both sexes is
now established on its proper footing. It is as free and easy
as is consistent with delicacy and propriety. There is an
opportunity afforded for that reciprocation of thoughts and
feelings, which constitutes the charm of social life. The
two portions of the human species learn to respect and
appreciate each other. Men learn, that if women are not
equal to them in science and knowledge, they at least possess
intellectuality enough to qualify them for intimate friends,
and agreeable associates.

The two sexes assimilate in taste and sentiments ; they
become imperceptibly prepared for living happily together
in the most intimate of all unions ; and each party finds

LETTER XXr. 153

charms in the other which they want in themselves. A
well educated girl makes a charming companion for an
amiable well principled youth just released from the
tedium and monotony of scholastic duties. His mental
powers are refreshed by the vernal flow of unsophisticated
feelings. His tastes are cultivated by a contact with the
pure polish of feminine manners. She learns from him
many useful facts, and imparts to him in return many pure
and verdant thoughts, just from the fresh coinage of nature's
mint. All this is delightful. Love arising from such an
intercourse is as pure as human nature can prompt.

The destiny of a whole life sometimes takes its hues from
a few moments of such intercourse as I have described. An
attachment so formed is replete with pure sentiment and
disinterested esteem ; it grows out of the soundest and fresh-
est portion of the human character. The heart has not had
time to contract itself; the world is new and carries home
no sickening consciousness of disappointment and delusion
to the bosom. Hope raises her standard amidst a throng of
juvenile projects for warding off the penalties of humanity.
Disappointment will come, to be sure, but not before the
soul has tasted some of the good things of this imperfect
state. The heart grows old in experience from witnessing
the troubles of others, and narrows its sphere of expectations
before the blessings of life begin to fail. And it does this
without becoming sour and morose. There is still a little
hoard of untainted feeling in its secret shrine, where the
frost-blight of selfishness has never penetrated. Then when
religion adds its blessed influence to the lessons of wisdom
and experience, the heart wonders that it should ever have
anticipated vacuity, or dreaded monotony.

I heed not the hackneyed opinion, that youth is exclu-
sively the happiest season of life. It is not always so. With
many individuals it is far too busy with tumultuous feelings,
and too boisterous with unrestrained passions, to admit of

154 LETTER XXI.

happiness. It is too poignant in hope, and eager in expecta-
tion, for any earthly joy to yield real gratification. Then
the want of self-command, and experience in the ways of
life are constantly inducing errors, from which the heart
shrinks, without being able to avoid them. Happiness is
a tranquil sentiment, and youth is rarely tranquil. Besides,
at that season, the heart has not become inured to the treat-
ment of a selfish world. All the freshest feelings of un-
blighted affection, and the buoyant soarings of ardent hope,
are sent forth confidingly into that icy region from which
they return cowed and chastened to the chilled and wound-
ed bosom. By and by, experience teaches that little is to
be gained in a liberal intercourse of thought and feeling with
people who have learnt to take all they can get, and to
return nothing in exchange for disinterested affection. A
cloud gathers over the gay prospects of youth, and the
heart learns to dispense its treasures less prodigally for the
future.

Religion is exactly adapted to the exigencies of the soul
at this crisis. Those affections which have been rejected
by a selfish world, are offered at a worthier shrine, and
received, with all their imperfections, by omnipotent mercy.
How indescribably soothing are the first breathings of the
spirit of divine love upon the chastened spirit of man ! Re-
jected by our fellow worms, we find ourselves accepted by
a pure and sinless God. The dove of peace descends, and
broods over the troubled waters of human passion, calling
from the deep recesses of the bosom, the chilled and blighted
affections, to offer them at the holy shrine of almighty love.
May you, my dear girl, experience all these blessed emo-
tions, without having to endure a previous conflict with
worldly disappointments. When religion is entwined with
the first feelings of youth by early and skilful culture, the
heart is spared the chastening of worldly disappointment.
Its first yearnings are after higher things ; and, thanks to

LETTER XXI. 155

infinite mercy, those things of matchless worth are attain-
able to all who seek them rightly.

Religion, my dear Mary, is (among its other inestimable
advantages) an admirable polisher of the manners. I know
nothing so sure to give a charm to female deportment, as
the possession of vital piety. It sheds a halo round the
mind, and imparts a lustre to every moral quality. A heart
elevated habitually with the exalted emotion of love to God,
must send forth upon the world a perennial stream of
sweet and holy feelings. It is the glorious province of
Christianity to extinguish the malignant passions, and soften
all the asperities of man. Unless it performs these miracles,
it is not that religion which Christ came to propagate. The
tree must be known by its fruits. A new heart cannot
prompt us to walk in the old ways of evil familiar to its
degenerate state. A right spirit cannot take the same
beaten track of error from which it was the province of
Christianity to reclaim it.

No, my dear Mary. People of the world may indeed be
allowed to doubt the efficacy of the regenerating principle,
when they detect carnal motives and espy worldly passions
rioting with primitive luxuriance beneath the flimsy mask of
a nominal faith. Alas, for poor human nature, when the
shadow is so often made to pass for the substance of virtue !
<« We are believing Christians," say many in this world,
whose natural current of thought and feeling has sustained
no momentary interruption from the admission of a faith
which is intended to effect a radical change in every dispo-
sition of the soul. What wonder, then, that the declaration
should be so common, " We see no difference between these
Christians and other people. They are selfish, or avari-
cious, or passionate, or malicious, or envious, like other
varieties of human character."

When real Christians reflect upon these melancholy

156 LETTER XXI.

truths, they should rouse every energy of their individual
faith, for the purpose of making the change from death unto
life visible in themselves. Their prayer should be, " Let
me, at least, O Lord, show forth in my conduct the
efficacy of thy holy religion, as a soul healing principle.
Let me become a new creature, for I profess to have been
born anew of thy Spirit, and I long to show its fruits to the
world in a living faith. Try me — prove the ground of my
heart. I know there are ways of wickedness in me, and I
long to experience a full regeneration of soul. Sin is hate-
ful to me. O aid me to cast it from me. Shall 1 [appear
before the world under the sacred designation of a Chris-
tian, and shall that world behold in me the same carnal
being, sullied by the same vices, tainted by the same errors,
which identified my unregenerate state ? Forbid it love !
forbid it reason ! Let me not so dishonour thy cause, Oh
my God. But without the incessant operation of thy grace,
the original taint of sin will pollute every impulse. Oh,
cleanse me daily. Heal me hourly. I believe that thou
canst effect this mighty work. Oh, make me a living exam-
ple of the truth of my own established belief, that the Chris-
tian is born again, and must become a new creature."

Such should be the constant aim, and the earnest prayer
of those on whom devoles the holy task of proving the truth
of God's word, by their daily conduct. Is not this a mighty
responsibility? Should it not mingle with every thought,
and prompt every word of the Christian indeed ? Alas !
when we hear people of the world sneer at our faith, instead
of getting angry with them, we ought seriously to ask our-
selves, what we have done to prove the truth of our religion.
In following this rule, we might chance to find that instead
of doing any thing in aid of the holy cause, we have per-
haps polluted the multitude in the evil practice of disproving
the truth daily, by our conduct. The most sacred and

LETTER XXI. 157

awful responsibility is imposed on us, and yet we act as if
we were as free in thinking and doing, as those who are
restrained by no profession.

Some of those who profess to feel this responsibility, con-
fine their efforts in maintaining the cause of God, solely to
their own particular sect. They are warm in defence of
particular doctrines; but their zeal cools when they discuss
the general merits of the cause. They inveigh against par-
ticular sects, as intolerant or careless, or worldly minded, or
as sanctioning some-individual practice or opinion obnoxious
to other sects.

I know people who are cold enough when speaking of the
might}' resuls of Christian principle in meliorating the moral
condition of man; but let them speak of their own sectarian
tenets, and a warm current of feeling seems to gush forth as
if from some hidden reservoir. They wax warmer and
warmer, as the merits of their own opinions and doctrines
become brighter and brighter to their contemplation. With
this warm stream of sectarian feeling, mingles a bitter cur-
rent of animosity towards those of different modes of think-
ing. They declaim, and redden, and sometimes vituperate
their sectarian opponents. Their minds fasten upon some
perverted statement of the doctrines of other denominations
of Christians, and they are so absorbed in wonder at their
errors, that it never occurs to them to investigate their own.
Indeed they would flush indignantly at the mention of error,
as applied to their own doctrines.

Bitterly, indeed, must all true disciples of the Redeemer
lament the prevalence of sectarian prejudice among the
Christians of our land.

The Author of Christianity has permitted, for wise pur-
poses, that the Church on earth should be divided and sub-
divided into different denominations, all of which concur in
the same broad and bright foundation of scriptural truth.
To give scope to diversity of tastes and opinions, he has
O

1 58 LETTER XXI.

left the arrangement of subordinate parts of the mighty
system, to his creatures on earth, moulding them all with
omnipotent skill into the one stupendous plan devised by
his wisdom. But the perverted ingenuity of man has raised
insurmountable barriers between the servants of the same
Master, and children of the same Parent. Instead of con-
sidering themselves as so many links of the same chain,
they rend the bonds of Christian union, and deepen every
shade of difference, until they produce total dissimilarity
among brethren of the same great family. We are permit-
ted to nourish a rational preference for our own modes of
faith, as we are allowed to love those best who most resem-
ble us in character; but surely this privilege does not
necessarily infer, not only an exclusive partiality for our
own sect and family, but an envenomed prejudice against
the rest of our fellow creatures.

Sectarian prejudice narrows the mind, and sours the
temper, while it contracts the kindred charities of life to a
single point. Every Christian should enlist with some fra-
ternity of evangelical worshippers; for the rights and
privileges of church membership form a valuable portion of
our social prerogatives. They are but another modification
of the sacred family compact; and the more ties we can
frame to strengthen our kindred charities, the wider becomes
the sphere of social affection.

All our virtuous feelings require careful nurture, and the
enlargement of our sweetest affections produces an increase
of virtuous enjoyment. On the contrary, whatever narrows
our sphere of sympathies and affections, tends to render
the heart less susceptible of happiness. I know instances
of sectarian prejudice that have effectually destroyed family
harmony among otherwise amiable people. I know cases
where a blight has fallen upon fair prospects, from no visible
source, but those differences of opinion in matters of faith,
which are perfectly compatible with the strictest harmony.

LETTER XXI. 159

Guard carefully against these errors, my dear girl.
Distrust your own Christian feelings, if they do not
peremptorily resist the entrance of harsh thoughts into
your bosom, against your brethren of any other denomina-
tion. Distrust the spiritual head of your church, if you
find him pleased at hearing animadversions against any
other sect. It should be enough for him that you indulge a
rational preference for your own. None but narrow hearts
and weak heads find invectives against other modes of faith
the surest way of maintaining a regard for their own.
These are pitiful expedients to enhance the merits of the
cause you have adhered to from motives of rational prefer-
ence. But many persons maintain religious excitement by
ministering to it through the medium of carnal feelings.
They kindle the flame of affection from the torch of discord,
and find their love for their own sect increase in proportion
to their dislike for every other.

But enough of this ungrateful topic. I will only add, that
I wish you to unite yourself with the sect you like best your-
self, after a strict and impartialexamination into the respective
merits of them all. Take no one's opinion on trust in such
an important question. When you have decided, prudently
shun all discussion on the subject with others. Cherish
a warm affection for true Christians of all other denomina-
tions, and do not fancy that the want of spirituality in a
few individuals affords a sufficient pretext for condemning
the sect to which they belong. There is enough correct
Christian principle in all denominations to maintain their
partisans in a virtuous tone of feeling, if they make a right
use of it; and there are errors enough existing also in each
sect to authorize many lapses of Christian duty in those
who wish to avail themselves of such circumstances.

The strongest parties have their weak points, and the
weakest have some strong ones. I consider that sect the

160 LETTER XXII.

wisest and the most likely to prosper, which adheres con-
scientiously to its own principles, and exercises most libe-
rality towards the principles of other sects.

I am, dear Mary, yours most fondly.

LETTER XXII.

On Friendship.

My Dear Mary,

I have endeavoured to direct you in the acquisition of that
friend who sticketh closer than a brother, and I will now
give you my ideas upon the subject of those ties which you
will form with your fellow pilgrims on the journey of life.

Friendship, in its purity, is indeed a rich treasure, and a
delightful solace to the cares and troubles incident to human-
ity; but it is not so easy a thing as is generally imagined, to
form and maintain this union consistently and effectually.
It has been my aim in these letters, to discuss candidly the
defects attributed to your sex. Inconstancy, both in friend-
ship and in love, is one among the number. But again 1
must affirm, that this vice is the growth of weak minds, of
whichever sex they may chance to be. The reason why
female friendships are so often unstable, is obviously because
they are carelessly formed. Indeed, I will not allow the
term friendship to be applied to the sentimental connexions
contracted in the nonage of reason, and under the pupilage
of an ill-ruled, exuberant imagination. Neitherdo I dignify
with that consecrated term, the acquaintanceships and com-
panionships contracted under boarding-school auspices.
Friendship, in its true acceptation, signifies a union of hearts

LETTER XXII. 161

which endures through time, and if my hopes do not deceive
me, through eternity also. It is not a provisional, conven-
tional agreement, destined to fulfil a stipulated good, and to
be dissolved. It is not an interested connexion, which may
be broken when it has yielded certain good offices. Neither
is it a chance-medley assortment, in which hearts are brought
into contact for a brief space, and then separated for ever.
It is a union of souls, sanctioned by divine authority, and in-
tended for the reciprocal benefit of the parties united. It
cultivates all the social virtues, and fosters the rational
sensibilities of man. No selfish, weak person can be a good
friend : no versatile, capricious mind can maintain this
connexion. It requires disinterestedness, firmness, and
tenderness, to form an indestructible union of souls, such as
deserves to be recognized by the Father of all in heaven.
In my own opinion, there is a sanctity in the term friend,
which prevents me from bestowing it without deep consider-
ation. There is nothing so much talked about, and so little
understood, in this world, as friendship. The connexions
which bear that name among us, with few exceptions, are
slightly formed ties of interest, or taste, or convenience, or
chance, brought together with a breath, and dissolved in the
pronouncing of a sentence. They are no more to be com-
pared to the real bond, than the unspun flax to the twisted
cable. But enough of similitudes.

It is my wish that you should perfectly understand what
friendship is, that you may be able to form and maintain
for yourself, this inestimable support and solace under the
trials of life. Choose then a firm-minded, amiable-tempered,
warm-hearted woman. Study her character until you un-
derstand it thoroughly. If you discover traits that you think
are incompatible with the preservation of friendship, recede
in time from a strict union, and content yourself with hold-
ing her in a subordinate grade of regard ; but if your affection
is firm enough to stand a few uncongenial traits, you must
o 2

16-2 LETTER XXII.

resolve to bear the burden faithfully, when once you have
assumed it. Should your friend prove selfish or capricious,
you must prepare to endure many trials of feeling as well as
patience. It is hard indeed, to put up with the frequent
mortification of finding yourself deserted in the hour of need ;
of being laid aside from mere weariness of a tedious connex-
ion; or perhaps rebuked for asking too much, when you
have in }'our turn sacrificed every thing.

A warm, affectionate heart delights in being called upon
to serve a friend to its own hinderance ; it makes all requi-
site sacrifices with pleasure; and, judging others by itself,
has no hesitation in believing that these services will be
strictly reciprocal. By and by it is so situated as to require
a return of favours. The case may be urgent, and, in full
confidence of success, the application is made. Would I
could save you all similar sufferings, dear Mary, by detailing
at length my own feelings at such a crisis, when the friend
in whom I trusted, coldly declined my request, and wondered
I could be so unreasonable as to make it. But instead of
representing my own sufferings, I had better point out the
mannner in which reason and religion succeeded in mitigating
them.

After my first mortification was over, T re-examined the
character of my friend, and found that enthusiasm had led
me to exspect more than that character was capable of
performing. I had been unreasonable in my requisitions,
not upon friendship itself, but upon the person whom I had
invested with all the rights and privileges of that exalted
sentiment. The fault was partly in myself, and I bore it
better than if it had been all my friend's. I did not throw
away in disgust the portion of regard which was really felt
for me, but I determined never again to tax it too highly. It
was then that I clearly understood what true disinterested-
ness meant; for I learnt in some sort to practise it. I
continued to serve my friend whenever occasion offered,

LETTER XXII. 163

without expecting any thing like strict reciprocity of services.
The great ethic rule of three — " Do unto all men as you
would they should do unto y°""-~ le not always correctly
understood. When people do as they would be done by,
they often assume to themselves the right of exacting more
than all persons can perform. They forget that their own
part of the duty should be performed with a single eye to the
glory of God, and are apt to complain, that they do not
receive exactly the same measure they mete to others. But
if we consider first our capacities to do good, and next the
motive by which we should be actuated in doing it, viz. the
glory of our God, — we will thankfully receive whatever
portion may fall to our lot in return, though it may fall short
of what we have done unto others. God, in commanding
us to do unto all men what we would wish them to do to us,
has given us a rule by which he exacts as much as we can
do for his own glory. We do it in fact unto God, and not
unto others — " Whatsoever ye do unto the least of these, is
done unto me" — and we should consider in the very act
itself, that we are doing it for one who has a right to our
best services. If therefore all men perform this duty as they
ought, mankind will reap the benefit of their own obedience
to God. The good that he has commanded to be done for
his glory, is done to our fellow men. What infinite, what
wonderful wisdom in the Highest and Mightiest ! But let
not man suppose when he is doing his best to his fellow men,
that he is to receive their best in return. No : he must
consult his own wishes as the measure of his obedience, not
of the obedience of others, because that would keep his eye
on the reward of his services, whereas it should be kept on
the glory of God, which is to be promoted by those services.
I once heard a poor, discontented woman say, that she had
all her life been doing as she would be done by, but that
nobody had ever done by her as she wished. " Then,"
said I, " you have done good by others, solely that they

164 LETTER XXii.

might return the good to you, have you not?" " Yes, surely,'*
said she, " an't that to be the reward of our good deeds ?"
" No, no., rny frUnd,1* saia I, " yon mistake the matter.
You must keep the law of God for his glory, not for your
own interest." She said whiningly, that this was a new
thing to her, and she was too old to learn.

But to return to our original subject. I would wish you,
dear Mary, to consider yourself solemnly bound to perform
all the offices of affection to those whom you have openly
invested with the claims of friendship. Measure not your
own deeds by theirs, but strictly enforce the golden rule
upon yourself, however it may be slighted by others. Yet
if the person you have chosen as your friend, should slight
you entirely, or show a desire to be released from the tie, do
not attempt to withhold her. On the contrary, give full
scope to her wishes ; but remember, that you are to bear no
ill will, nor harbour a resentful thought against her. If she
has indeed acted amiss, her conduct will be its own punish-
ment, and surely, if ever she deserves chastisement it will
come upon her, for wilfully casting away the treasure of a
warm, disinterested heart. The time will come, (unless she
is entirely worthless,) when she will feel it, and if you can
ever render her a good office, I am sure you will do it with
alacrity. A good heart can never entirely subdue a deep
and ardent attachment. Much tenderness and compassion
will remain at the bottom of the heart, ready to come forth
at the first call.

If you should have the blessing of deserving friends, I
need not instruct you how to cherish them : your own heart
will perform that office spontaneously. Yet I would warn
you against expecting too much, and above all, against
torturing your friends with needless jealousies and suspicions.
Some people cannot bear that their intimate friends should
give any share of their affections to others. This is selfish
and unreasonable. Surely if you have proper confidence

LETTER XXII. 165

in your friend, (and that you must have in a tried one,) you
may safely leave to herself the privilege of forming other
friendships. Pay her the compliment of loving those whom
she loves, and enlarge your circle for her sake. But never
suffer morbid sensibility to disturb your peace, and that of
your chosen friends. I have often observed, that suspecting
ill will in others, very often produces it ; and on the contrary,
I have also discovered, that you may do away trifling dis-
pleasure, by wilfully overlooking it, and acting as if it did
not exist. With regard to confidential disclosures, I think
great mischef is done by incautious young girls, who love
mystery because it invests them with a feeling of self-import-
ance ; they will have their secrets, therefore, and make a
great show of confiding them to a chosen few. But all this
parade is beneath my notice, as it is beneath your practice.
Did you never observe a certain affected young lady, who
is brimful of mawkish sentiment? How fond of mystery she
is — what a budget of confidence she has to unlade to her
chere amie ! I should really shrink from her friendship as a
severe infliction. But seriously speaking, discreet, correct,
and well educated women, should have very few secrets.
Indeed, I know not what strictly legitimate mysteries they
have a right to. Accident, to be sure, may make them
acquainted with things that should not be disclosed to every
one; but in the fair and free social intercourse of life, mys-
teries are unpleasant, if not suspicious. In all love affairs,
young ladies should consider it a point of honour, to be
silent respecting those lovers whom they do not mean to
accept. None but their parents and confidential friends
should be informed of these things. But when a young lady
has made a selection, and is actually betrothed, I see no
occasion for concealment. In the first place, let her desire
it ever so much, it is unattainable. The more she
involves her affairs in mystery, the more she excites

166 LETTER XXII.

curiosity; and that busy quality once set to work, there is
no doubt but it will discover either truth or falsehood. Is it
not therefore more natural, that a delicate, candid female
should let the truth be known, than that she should subject
herself to malicious or envious misconstruction, by insisting
upon mystery ? I once knew a young lady, who would not
suffer her own near relations to be told of her engagement.
There was not even to be a whisper on the subject within
her knowledge. The consequence was, that every one set
to work at guessing, and the whole affair was discovered,
and a great deal more discussed than it would have been,
if it had been honestly acknowledged. The young lady
went to a party with her lover, but would not allow him to
approach her, for fear people should guess something : the
whole room knew the fact, and watched every movement of
the mysterious couple. The next day, nothing was talked
of but tlieir sly glances, and tender signals to each other
during the evening. Had they not attempted mystery, the
circumstance, being of frequent occurrence, would have
passed without a remark.

When a secret is told you, it should be kept inviolably ;
however unnecessary the mystery may appear to you, it is
your sacred duty to be secret. You cannot reveal such a
confidence without dishonour. But I pray you, my dear,
have few mysteries of your own. Let your conduct be so
open, that secrecy will not be needful. Many people have
no other use for a friend, than to keep their secrets ; and
that is one reason why true friendship is so rare. You will
know how to use your friends to more purpose. They will
aid you in all your difficulties with advice — with upholding;
and lastly and most dearly, with sympathy in your inevita-
ble sorrows. May you be blest with a true friend, who
will adhere to you inflexibly through good report and evil
report; through prosperity and adversity; through all the

LETTER XXIII. 167

changes of this mutable world, and even smooth the bed of
death in the closing struggle of nature. I can wish you few
better things on this side heavenl With true regard, I
remain

Ever yours.

LETTER XXIII.

On Romance and Poetry.

My Dear Mary,

It is customary in the present age, to condemn, en masse}
the whole race of romances as dangerous productions. But
J cannot consent to sweep away so large a portion of the
blossoms of literature, and so fair a field for the exercise and
improvement of taste. Dry writers, who contend for the
daily, bread of sober, nutritious morality, are afraid to allow
any mixture of fancy's flowers, with the intellectual banquet
of philosophy and science. But though I would certainly
prefer solid works 10 the light productions of fancy, yet I
cannot but desire to retain the latter as auxiliaries in my
plan of mental improvement.

To ground an education upon romance reading, would
be like building a portico Instead of a dwelling house.
But no one will deny that the portico is a pleasing, and
even useful, appendage to the comfortable mansion, when
it is erected on a firm foundation. Besides, if all moralists
were to unite in prohibiting works of fancy, it would be
impossible to enforce the prohibition. If they are not read
openly, they will be devoured in secret; and the habit of
practising deception is more dangerous to the morals, than a
host of romances. I never knew an instance of an impera-
tive prohibition of this sort, that was not accompanied with

168 LETTER XXIII.

evasions, if not positive infractions. Parents should avoid
enforcing such rules as may admit the imputation of need-
less severity or fastidious particularity. However dutiful
their children may be, they will find human nature harder
to control than they imagined, when they were forming
their theories upon some beautiful abstract system. It is
better, therefore, to make timely allowance for those exube-
rances, which will infallibly present difficulties in practice,
though they may have been overlooked in theory. But
even supposing it practicable to keep young people from
romances of every description, it certainly is not desirable in
my opinion. There are works of moral fiction in our day,
which are eminently calculated to exalt the moral sense, and
develope the social virtues. The mode of illustrating by
fictitious examples the most needful moral qualities, has
been practised successfully in all ages. The sacred parables
themselves are beautiful specimens of this method of instruc-
tion : most of the books intended for children are on this
plan. But when the intellect has expanded, and can com-
prehend the abstract principles of ethics, it is alleged that
the mind can receive more solid improvement from works of
reason and philosophy. This is very true. There are
individuals of both sexes who are capable of comprehending
the deepest and most abstract disquisitions on morals ; and
such works should indubitably be read by those gifted indi-
viduals. But there are many females, (I will confine myself
to them,) who have not sufficiently strong minds to enter
into deep investigations. To all such a lighter method of
instruction is valuable, because it enables them to draw
important truths from accessible sources. And to many,
whose opportunities of acquiring solid information are rare,
those works which simplify important knowledge, are
valuable. But for you, my dear Mary, who have every
advantage in acquiring an education, I would lay down a
plain and easy rule.

LETTER XXII I. 169

Never suffer yourself to be seduced into novel reading as
an occupation. In your hours of recreation, read those
works of fiction which have been put forth by writers of
undoubted talent. To suppose that you can prey upon
the garbage of a circulating library, would be to draw the
painful inference that you were destitute of taste, and this I
cannot bear to do, even in conjecture. A mind that can
take pleasure in the trash of silly novels which may be
raked from the charnel houses of literature, deserves to be
compared to the female monster, in the Arabian tales, who
fed upon dead bodies. I cannot imagine so degraded a state
of intellect among the enlightened people of our age and
country. But if such a morbid appetite should by chance
exist, it should be resisted like the depraved desire to eat
chalk and other unnatural food, which betokens a diseased
state of the animal system. There can be no regular rule
for indulging a taste for the higher works of fancy. Each
individual is the best judge of what is safe and salutary for
bis own case. As particular articles of food disagree with
particular constitutions, so there are certain intellectual
repasts which cannot be partaken without danger, by minds
in a certain state. I once knew a fine girl, who could not
venture to read a line of Byron's poetry. She began by
reading his works with avidity, as fast as they were pub-
lished ; but they brought on such an unnatural and feverish
excitement of her imagination, that she determined to
abstain from them as poisonous aliment. I would advise
you to keep this rule steadily yourself, and never to read
any thing that carries you away from the every-day con-
cerns of life. There are some imaginations that fly away
from reason and reality, as soon as they borrow wings from
poetry or romance. There are others that merely skim along
lightly, and experience a pleasant buoyancy of spirits, from
the perusal of the most animated work of fancy. ■ The
first should avoid, as dangerous, every thing which tends to
P

1 70 LETTER XXIII.

excite them : the last may venture lo employ leisure time in
light reading. But never suffer yourself to neglect serious
study or occupation, for the sake of the finest poem or
romance that ever was composed. I would as soon live
upon syllabub or honey, as to fill up my mind with the
froth and foam of romance; but I nevertheless eat syllabub
with pleasure in its proper place, after I have satisfied
myself with nutritious diet; and I read Scott's romances
(some of them) with great pleasure by way of recreation :
they relax the mind pleasantly enough, after long tension ;
but they would degrade it utterly to frivolity, if nothing
more serious was put before them. Read then, solely for
recreation, both romances and poetry, unless you find that
they unfit you for serious thought; if they have that effect,
discard them, as you have already discarded plays and
balls. Every thing that unhinges the mind and slackens
the intellectual nerve, is dangerous, and must be avoided.
We have too much use for our sober faculties in this per-
plexed scene of life, to allow them to weaken or droop over
fiction or sentiment : the medium is always best and safest.
Some people are so fond of visiting, that they will not
mind their own affairs at home ; but we would not therefore
prohibit young people from visiting their friends, lest they
should contract a habit of gadding. All amusements are
dangerous, when the mind becomes exclusively, or dispro-
portionably attached to them; but no moralist would on
that account, prohibit recreations entirely. The abuse of
any good thing, is no argument against the judicious use of
it. For my part, I wish all our amusements could be intel-
lectual instead of sensual ; and surely one of Scott's best
romances, or a sublime piece of poetry, would fill up a
leisure hour more profitably than chess, or cards, or riddles,
not to mention the senseless games in vogue among the
young and thoughtless. The novels of Mrs. Brunton, and
Miss Grace Kennedy, are calculated to impress the funda-

LETTER XXIII. 171

mental truths of religion indelibly upon the mind. They
exhibit the beauties and advantages of Christian faith and
practice, in an interesting delineation of characters drawn
from real life. The little work, by the last named author,
entitled " Profession not Principle, or the name of Chris-
tian not Christianity," contains the best description I have
ever seen, of the gradual change which takes place in the
heart, when it is renewed by grace. Among the many
irreligious persons in our age and country, there are not a
few who persist in unbelief, from utter ignorance of the
beauties of true Christianity. They have been nurtured in
darkness, and therefore do not seek the light. The veil has
often been removed from the vision of such people, by a
clear and lucid exposition of divine truth, brought before
the mind in the narrative form. I remember being greatly
aided in my researches by Mrs. Brunton's "Discipline,"
which came in my way, in the midst of the perplexity
attendant on my first examination into the mysteries of
revelation. But in recommending works of fiction to you,
I would have you clearly to understand, that a solid founda-
tion must be laid in your mind, by serious study, before you
raise the superstructure of taste with the above mentioned
materials. A regular course of history should be commenced
at twelve years of age, and continued with unremitting
assiduity until the mind is stored with a connected recollec-
tion of important historical events, from the creation to the
present day. Beginning at the Old Testament, and follow-
ing up the sacred records with such ancient history as you
can procure, you must endeavour to obtain a general know-
ledge of the nations whose origin is to be traced in the Bible.
The history of Rome is so deeply interesting, particularly
in the days of the republic, that you will need no inducement
to study, when you once begin, greater than the passing
pleasure of the pursuit. Livy is a delightful historian. He
carries you irresistibly along with his narrative, through the

172 LETTER XXIII.

various changes of that vast empire, which was once mistress
of the world. Tacitus and Suetonius, as far as they go, fill
up some of the chasms in regular history; but after reading
Livy, I remember reading Polybius' history of the Punic
wars, to carry on the chain of events. Middleton's life of
Cicero, is a finished chronicle of the times in which that
celebrated Roman lived; and Gibbon gives you a full,
though rather verbose, narrative of the decline and fall of
that mighty empire. Plutarch's Lives should be read and
re-read, until all their contents are indelibly fixed on the
memory. It is best to read them in connexion with history ;
that is, to take up each life as you come to the period
at which each character flourished.*

* History should always be read with geography, for it is im-
possible to remember events, unless in connexion with the places
at which they happened. Dates should also be scrupulously
recorded, and extracts of important events, with the times at
which they happened, and a brief geographical notice of places
rendered celebrated by their occurrence, should form a regular
volume in every young lady's library. It is pleasant as well as
profitable, to be able to refer to such a summary of our youthful
studies, when years have passed over our heads, and dimmed the
recollection of early pursuits. It often happens, that such remi-
niscences awaken trains of thought favourable to mental or
spiritual improvement. It is sometimes useful to compare present
with past feelings ; to measure the sober march of chastened
intellect, with the full, overflowing ebullition of fresh springing
thoughts and feelings.

Extracts from history should be interspersed with such reflec-
tions as arise spontaneously in the mind while reading. These
serve to mark the progress of the judgment towards maturity.
It is a profitable exercise to compare these reflections at different
periods, that we may accurately ascertain the developement of
reason under this process of mental instruction. I often carry
myself back to the earliest season of youth, by looking over a
book of extracts from history read at that period: this enables me
to realize my own state of mind at that season of immaturity.

LETTER XXIII 173

In reading Gibbon, I would have you remember that his
principles are dangerous ; but his mode of treating the sub-
ject of Christianity, will doubtless shock your orthodoxy.
His celebrated chapter on the causes of the progress of
Christianity, is thought, by shallow minded people, to con-
tain conclusive arguments against that holy religion ; but a
true Christian is safe from his sophistry, and a child in faith
can refute his boasted reasoning. The incongruity of
supposing that persecution could advance the interests of any
cause, is too striking to be overlooked by a tyro in logic.
How much more rational it is to deduce from this circum-
stance a powerful proof of the strength of that cause which
surmounts persecution, and triumphs against opposition.
Had this thing originated in man's devices, man could and
would have overthrown it. But as it came from God him-
self, it will prosper under his providence.

The history of Greece should be taken up at its proper
time, and read in connexion with that of Rome. Gillies is
a pleasing writer ; and you will fancy yourself reading a
romance when you take up Anacharsis. With regard to the
history of England, Hume has been discarded by the best
judges, and Baxter and Rapin substituted in his place. La
Cretelle is the most pleasing historian of France, and his
" Precis de la Revolution," is a deeply interesting narrative.
Voltaire's General History, and his age of Lewis XIV. will
be always read with pleasure. The u Henriade" of the
same author is a historical poem, and the best known spe-
cimen of French epic poetry. Some of Voltaire's dramatic
works are pleasing, but no female can contaminate her
mind by reading his works of fancy and fiction. I would
refer you to the " Universal History," a well known work,

I smile over detected errors of judgment, and rejoice that years
have added something to my stock of discretion, if they have
subtracted from my volubility of spirits,
P 2

174 LETTER XXII 1.

for the most authentic records of those nations mentioned
in the Bible. You must of course read all Robertson's
Histories j as they are indispensable items in the catalogue
of useful reading. With regard to American history, there
is so little, that you must read all you can procure.

The French language is almost essential to a well edu-
cated woman ; and yet I would not have you read much of
the most celebrated literature of that nation. Rousseau I
would prohibit entirely, and, as I have before stipulated,
much of Voltaire's immoral trash. Among the female wri-
ters of France, I would recommend Madam de Genlis, as
she has written professedly for her own sex. • Yet I cannot
but object to her plan of education, that it tends to inculcate
double dealing ; or to speak more cautiously, it does not
advocate that singleness of heart and freedom from duplicity,
which is the principal charm of woman. In other respects
her morality is pure, and her style is certainly highly
pleasing. Madam de Stael Holstein, though the greatest
genius of the age, is not a model for women ; her declared
infidelity and her romantic turn of thought, together with her
practice, make her rather a warning than an example to her
sex. Her works of fiction are alluring from the beauty of
her style, and the highly wrought tone of romance which
pervades them. But all her rational feelings, and even her
principles, seem to evaporate in the mystifying vapour of
sentiment. She would make woman a thing to be wor-
shipped on an altar ; not a rational being, whose intelligent
and active exertions are to afford a perennial source of com-
fort to mankind. I would not advise you to read her " Cor-
rinne," or her " Delphine," lest your imagination should
become infected with the over exquisite fashion of her
refinement. Women who are determined (as I trust you
are) to be rational and useful, must keep a strict guard over
their sensibilities, instead of surrendering them to the guid-
ance of the high priestess of romance. Madam Cottin is

LETTER XXIV. 1 75

a less exceptionable specimen of French authoresses. Her
novels are pleasing without being dangerous ; for they skim
lightly over the fancy, without stirring it too deeply. The
imagination is the avenue to the heart. Some writers sport
awhile in its mystic windings, without reaching the sanctum
sanctorum of feeling. While others possess a subtle power,
which penetrates at once to the citadel, and usurps rule
over the impulses. I would have you, my dear girl, always
in possession of your own rational judgment, in all things
concerning your dearest interests. Women who exalt their
imaginations by the overheated ebullitions of sentimental
writers, place themselves in the dangerous condition of being
overcome by morbid feeling, or misled by false reasoning.
Love is omnipotent with this class of writers, and the female
heart is softened to puerile weakness, by being persuaded to
submit to its usurpations, without appeal to reason. But
love is in fact a dangerous passion, which must be subjected
to vigorous control; for it will subvert the peace of the indi-
vidual who allows its predominance. So much mischief has
befallen those who have acquiesced in its tyranny, that the
world should have, ere this, gained wisdom from experience.
But young hearts are open to its wiles, and it is necessary
to put them on their guard. I have pursued this subject far
enough, and will conclude for the present with best wishes
to my dear young friend.

LETTER XXIV.

Self-Deception Exemplified.
My Dear Mary,

I have lately witnessed a scene, which I may well
describe to you in connexion with the subject of my last
letter. The daughter of one of my earliest friends, has lately
received her summons to quit the fleeting things of time, and

1 76 LETTER XXIV.

embark on the shoreless ocean of eternity. Five years ago,
this young lady publicly professed religion, and took upon
her the emphatic name and privileges of the Christian. She
had been educated among thoughtless, but amiable people,
and received her first impressions of the importance of
Christianity, from a missionary who accidentally passed
through her neighbourhood. From this time Agnes Somer-
ton, for that was her name, avowed a determination to per-
sist in her researches after divine truth, until her mind
received full conviction. Her mother was one of those
Christians, who had taken up the profession, without any
high idea of its requisitions. She was by nature good and
amiable, so that her deficiencies in vital piety were not visible
to superficial observers. She expressed pleasure at her daugh-
ter's convictions, but still was terribly afraid that she might
become a Presbyterian, alias a fanatic. u That sect are so
unreasonably strict," said she, " and deny their members
so many innocent amusements, that really I find it hard to
tolerate them. Some of my near connexions have joined
it, and I can assure you they are unpleasant inmates, they
have such a cavilling spirit. They can't bear cards,
although we never play for money ; they won't attend the
theatre, or dancing assemblies ; and they keep the Sabbath
so strangely, that it is any thing but a day of rest, with their
Sunday schools and their prayer meetings. Now, for my
part, I think it irreverent to be always bringing religion
forward: it is a sacred thing, and ought to be kept apart
from the ordinary affairs of life."'

You may be sure I did not omit the faithful expression of
my own principles, on this occasion. I alleged that the
Presbyterians were in nothing more strict than evangelical
Episcopalians. That religion was the healing branch
which should be thrown into all the bitter fountains of
human evil. That the Sabbath was a holy day, and ought
to be kept sacred. I inquired if she understood the com-

LETTER XXIV. 177

raandment as enjoining any particular portion of that day to
be consecrated, while the rest was given over to secular
affairs ? I urged, that to the truly pious, the whole Sabbath
was a precious season of rest to the overtoiled spirit. That
the privilege of spending that day in holy thoughts and
devout exercises, was immeasurably dear to the true disci-
ple of the Lord Jesus. J asked my friend — " Would you
have tired of the Saviour, had it been your lot to have lived
with him in the flesh j to have seen and heard him as his
disciples — as Mary and Martha did ?" She readily answer-
ed, that she certainly should not have wearied of his actual
presence. I replied, "Neither should we become tired of
holding communion with him by faith, at his own appointed
season. If we spend the Sabbath with him, he will spend
the rest of the week with us 5 but if we only give him an
hour or two of his own day, we have no right to expect his
abiding presence during our season of worldly employment."
As for balls and plays, I observed that they were not so
much prohibited by any rules of the church, as that people
who were capable of appreciating the joys of religion,
wanted no fictitious aid to promote cheerfulness. That
they rejected spontaneously, and of free choice, those plea-
sures which took away their thoughts from holy things. " As
for all that," said my friend, " I am free to say, that I
have done very well without it, and wish to continue as I
am. I have heard, indeed, that some Episcopalian minis-
ters are becoming strict in these matters, but I am glad I
don't belong to any of their churches. Our pastor is an
excellent man, and nobody ever heard him object to an
innocent game at cards, or balls, and plays. He says the
theatre is very improving to the manners and understanding,
besides affording the purest standard for pronunciation and
grammar." To all this, I vainly attempted to apply com-
mon sense, and even common piety; but I was pleased to
find that Agnes listened approvingly, and when we parted,

178 LETTER XXIV.

asked me to correspond with her on the subject of her new
convictions. To this I readily agreed ; but after replying
to three or four of my letters, in the free, fluent language of
the heart, she suddenly discontinued her communications.
I was told that her mother prohibited our correspondence,
on the plea that I was teaching Agnes a religion so different
from her own, that she would have no pleasure in her
daughter's conversion. I sighed at this intelligence, and
continued to pray fervently, that both mother and daughter
might be guided in the right way.

A fortnight ago, I heard that Agnes had been in a gradual
decline, which had been overlooked by her friends, until
the disease had triumphed over her native strength of con-
stitution. I hastened to the house, and found the family
in that state of overpowering terror and affliction, which
sufficiently proves the want of spiritual strength to sustain
the evils of life. Prosperity had kept off serious thoughts,
till their minds had become unable to bear them. The
mother wrung her hands in agony, and exclaimed, " Oh,
my Agnes ! — Tell me, do you think her in danger?" Alas,
my first view of the transparent skin, the hectic glow ; the
first sound of the sepulchral voice; the tightened breath,
which plainly indicaled decay in the seat of respiration —
all spoke too plainly to allow me to conceal the truth for a
moment. " You must lose your child for the present, but
you will be reunited at no distant period, never to endure
separation again," was my reply to the distracted mother.
" Oh I" said she, " I cannot live without her : what shall I
have to sweeten life when she is gone ?" " Resignation,"
replied I, " will make your grief endurable. Have you not
received great and continued good from your God, and
can you not now submit to whatever evil he may choose
to send you?" "Oh no, no!" replied she, I have not
learnt to submit to evil: my religion has taught me to
be thankful for benefits, but that was when I thought they

LETTER XXIV. 179

would never be withdrawn. I am sure I have never missed
a night, for twenty years, returning thanks in the very
same words for all my blessings, and I have often done that,
when my heart was very full of cares and fears about some
of my worldly affairs, but still I offered up thanks, because
I thought such an expression of gratitude would save my
blessings from being taken away.'' " God loves a grateful
heart," said 1, " but I fear your thanksgiving was not of the
right sort to be acceptable." " Why not ?" said she
quickly, " when my thanks were offered up in the prescribed
language of the church to which I belong ? Nobody can
accuse me of having neglected any of its observances, and
poor Agnes has been still more strict. Often have I known
her to come home from a ball or play, fatigued to death,
and yet she would not go to sleep until somebody had read
to her a chapter in the Bible, and a form of prayer. She
has been exemplary in performing her religious duties, 1
assure you ; but her nerves are affected, poor child, and she
talks in the most distressing manner about her sins. I tell
her, that I am the best judge of her conduct, and I have
never known her to commit any sins.* To be sure, there
is original sin, which every one partakes of, but we are
given to understand that the blood of Jesus washes away that
stain."

1 will not detain you longer with the detail of these melan-
choly errors, but will proceed to describe the situation of
the poor young woman herself. She pressed my hand
silently, when I took a seat beside her ; her countenance
underwent a sad variety of changeful expressions, in which
I read plainly all the agonies of retrospection. At length
she spoke — "You warned me faithfully," said she; "I
acquit you of having any share in my ruin." Oh, what
must have been her feelings at that moment ! " Is your pros-

Fact.

1 80 LETTER XXIV.

pect dark?" asked I. " As dark as remorse and fruitless
conviction can make it," said she with a burst of tears. " I
awake from a dream of error and delusion, to contemplate
the awful certainty of being weighed in the balance and
found wanting. Conscience, like a lagger in duty, now
shows me what I have left undone : oh, that I had listened
to its still small voice, when it first whispered truth to my
heart. But folly had sounded her tocsin, and all remon-
strance was vain. Oh," added she with sudden and awful
animation — " Oh that I could at this moment assemble the
young, the thoughtless, and the vain, around my dying
bed ; I would thrill to the centre of their hearts, a warning
that could never be forgotten. I would say to them, i Be-
hold the fiuits of folly, and see the end of fashion !' That
idol, like Juggernaut in his triumphal car, crushes beneath
his armed wheels, the wretches who prostrate themselves
at his shrine. Behold a victim, who, forearmed and fore-
warned, has yet offered up her soul to the monster ! I go to
receive the award of my deeds, done in the flesh against the
warning of the Spirit. Oh, let none suppose that an out-
ward conformity to the rules of any church, is religion. I
have mistaken the shadow for the substance ; and oh ! that
I could be the last victim of such delusion. Bring forth the
trappings of fashion — the wages of sin — the price of my
immortal soul ! See here," — and she held up various arti-
cles of decoration — " See here : for this, and this, and such
paltry, contemptible trifles, did I forsake the path of salva-
tion, and follow the multitude to destruction. Yes, the road
to ruin is indeed a beaten track, and many there be that
follow it ; while that narrow path that Ieadeth to eternal
life, has few} and far between, along its peaceful track. Oh,
that I had been one of those few ! — I might have been ; for
I had warning — timely warning," said she, turning to me.
* But it is too late : the wheel has but few revolutions to
make around the cistern, before the cord will be broken,

LETTER XXIV. 181

and the spirit released for ever ! Mother," said she, turning
to her afflicted parent who just then crept into the room —
" mother, I request that all my trinkets may be sold for the
benefit of the poor; after having destroyed my soul let them
do some good in this wicked world ; and oh, dear mother,
bring up my little sister to dress plainly, and not to love
pleasure as I have done ; make her sensible from my exam-
ple, of the ruinous consequences of sin ; for, oh mother !
though your kindness has given it another name, my life
has been spent in sin. Oh, the warnings that I have neglected
— the spiritual evidences that 1 have resisted. Now they all
appear perfectly comprehensible to me ; now the veil of
vanity is removed. Oh how slight is its texture — how lighter
than gossamer its materials ! and yet it obscured my mental
vision as effectually as midnight darkness : it concealed truth
from my mind, until it is too late to derive any benefit from
its holy radiance."

She continued to speak in this manner, until a violent
paroxysm of the consumptive cough impeded her utterance.
The cough brought on a discharge of blood from the lungs,
and the physician forbade further exertion of speech.
But oh, the eloquent agony of that silent countenance !
I knelt beside her, and prayed, but she made signs that
prayer was unavailing. Yet I could see that her own mind
was engaged in agonizing supplication. Her eyes were
upraised, and cold drops of dew stood on her livid brow.
One of her ornaments, a diamond ring, still hung on her
emaciated finger. She took it off, and pointing to a Bible
which lay on the'table, put the ring in my hand. I asked
her if she wished the ring to be disposed of, and its proceeds
spent in Bibles for the destitute ? she signified her assent by
a significant gesture. She then opened a casket, which
stood near her, and took out a splendid watch and seals,
and at the same moment opening the Bible, she laid them
on this sentence — " Go preach my gospel unto all nations. "
Q

182

LETTER XXIV.

I asked if she gave it to the missionary cause ? Another
signal of assent closed our conference, for she soon fell back
in a state of insensibility, from which she never entirely
recovered. But oh, how different was the expression of her
dying countenance, from that of your mother, my Mary.
The one was a foretaste of heaven, the other betokened
fearful doubts and agonies. I cannot describe the situation
of the mother, when all was over. She then awoke
to a full extent of misery. " My child is gone, and they
say she is not gone to heaven ! How is that ? — Was she
not a Christian? — Am not I a Christian? — Who dares
deny it ? I am a believer, and will not suffer myself to be
shaken by fanatical reveries !" Such were her ravings for a
time ; but I left her completely humbled, and imploring
every one to pray for her, that she might be converted to
true religion.

Alas, how common a case is Agnes Somerton's ! How
many deceive themselves to the last moment, with the hope,
that they at least (if no others) will be permitted to serve
God and Mammon ; to carry divine truth about, without
using it ; to believe in Christ, and yet not serve him ; to
have the reward promised to faithful servants, without
having done any thing to merit it. Oh, could such people
be assured, that they cannot have their good things in this
world and the next too 5 that they must serve God dili-
gently, or they will not receive the wages of service ! They
must choose between time and eternity 5 and when their
choice is made, they must abide by it. Choose now, my
dear Mary, and let yours be a right choice. O, may you
have grace given you to abide by it, prays

Your true friend.

( 133 )

LETTER XXV.

Female Attainments in Science and Literature.

My Dear Mary,

Science is now so much simplified, that women have time
as well as talents to become acquainted with its elements.
Joyce's Scientific Dialogues contain much that is agreeable
and useful; and I would recommend their attentive perusal
to all my young female friends. Other elementary works
are daily pouring from the pr?ss, in this prolific age; and
doubtless, even while I am penning this sentence, new efforts
are making to smooth the path of knowledge, so as to render
its high places accessible to female talent and industry.
There is something delightful in the free, familiar exercise,
of the rational faculties. The utmost art of education can
do no more than excite a desire for improvement, and form
the habit of persevering application. No human skill can
impart knowledge, unless there is a predisposition in the
mind to receive it. The aim of the teacher, therefore,
should be to awaken intelligent curiosity first, and after-
wards furnish it proper means of gratification. It is easy,
when a right method is adopted, to awaken the attention of
a mere child, to some of the most important facts in science
or philosophy. But to do this, the teacher must be familiar
with the things to be taught. There must be no boggling
or confusion in the explanations given, or the mind will be
perplexed instead of enlightened. I have explained to a
child of seven years old, the whole Copernican system,
with the aid of a ball, a knitting-needle, and a candle to
represent the sun. But the faculties of children must be
developed by conversation, or they will shrink from under-
taking these things. A judicious, intelligent mother may
prepare her child for receiving eternal benefit from an ordi-

184 LETTER XXV.

nary system of instruction. But it is very discouraging to
teachers, to find the children intrusted to their care, with
minds as it were hermetically sealed to knowledge, from
their having been left undisturbed to their own puerilities.
Parents should converse on all improvable topics with their
children. They should ascertain the innate bias both of
mind and disposition, so as to prepare as soon as possible
for that system of culture, which is to correct the evil, and
mature the good of each individual.

There is at present, a general outcry against teachers,
throughout our country, and it is true that those who under-
take this important charge, are seldom duly qualified ; but
it is also true, that the early education of children is so much
neglected, that they go to school with habits little favourable
to improvement. They come to their teachers with self-
will strong enough to overthrow all ordinary restraints ;
and minds so inured to ignorance, that the desire of intellec-
tual improvement can scarcely be awakened. Idleness, the
fruitful source of vice, has settled like an incubus on the
dormant faculties; and this spell must be broken, before
there can be a hope of kindling the torch of intellect. This
is the province, not of the tuloY, but of the parent ; and the
blame of many an utter failure in education, may be traced
back to the mismanagement of early childhood.

I once heard a lady allege, in extenuation of some repre-
hensible act of indulgence to her son, that he was soon going
to school, poor boy, where he would be kept strict enough.
And some parents give their children such unlimited license
during their vacation, that they go back to school totally
unhinged from every salutary restriction, and prompt enough
to rebel against efficient discipline. I do not in the least
doubt, but this error is the cause of the insubordination so
notorious in Virginia seminaries of learning. The youth of
our state are accustomed from infancy to have their whims
gratified, and their irregular desires indulged by the menials

LETTER XXV. 185

who swarm around them. Parents are not sufficiently
aware, that habits of tyranny as well as idleness, are formed
by their children in the domestic circle. They should
carefully prevent these mischiefs, by keeping their offspring
as much as possible in their presence, and thus counteract
the baleful effects of our national misfortune. Children will
exercise self-will, if they are not sedulously guarded against
it, and the peculiarities of the domestic establishments of
Virginia give free scope to this propensity. The unfortunate
beings who surround our homes, and constitute a portion of
every family, are by nature and habit the fosterers of moral
evil. In every social circle, the tenants of the cradle and
the nursery are committed to their charge. The seeds of
vice are scattered secretly with the very aliment that sustains
life. The danger is imminent, and the eyes of those appoint-
ed to ward it off, are too often closed in careless supineness
or infatuated ignorance. It is here that female influence is
so immeasurably important. The tender and judicious
mother feels in her heart's core the threatened evil, as it
approaches insidiously towards the children of her love. She
guards every avenue with watchful discretion, and hallows
with her prayers the cherished circle, round which her
thoughts and affections hover ceaselessly. She labours to
impart to her servants the fundamental rules of morality, and
opens to them the source of divine truth. She prepares and
enforces a code of regulations, which prevent the most
dreaded evils to which her offspring are exposed. It is her
constant aim to widen and deepen every impression of virtue
that their minds are susceptible of, and in due time she
forms for herself a set of honest, respectable domestics, who,
together with her children, " look up to her, and call her
blessed.''

There is no evil so great as not to admit of alleviation;
and it is my determined opinion, that females have it in their
power, not only to mitigate the grievances of slavery to the
Q2

1 86 LETTER XXV.

unfortunate beings themselves, but to prevent the deleterious
influence of their example on the domestic circle. They
should instruct their servants carefully in morality and reli-
gion. They should treat them with scrupulous kindness;
but carefully keep them from temptation, and give them
constant employment. At the same time, they should have
their own little independent interests, and their owners
should advance these whenever they possibly can ; so as to
let them perceive that they are regarded as fellow beings. Of
all the sources of mismanagement most prolific of mischief,
the too most common one is, incessant scolding. I know
families where this evil has reached such a pitch, as to
destroy domestic quiet. The truth is, that women find it
difficult and troublesome to manage their servants, and they
fall into the obvious mistake of continual reproof. There
never was, and never will be, the slightest success attending
this method. On the contrary, the mischief is obvious and
incalculable. I cannot believe, that any rational being ever
seriously contended for the expediency of this unnatural plan
of inducing obedience. But it is easier to indulge the oft-excited
temper, than to restrain it, and nothing is plainer than the
usual excuse — " I must reprove when they deserve it, and my
servants always deserve reproof." Now to me, this declara-
tion is equivalent to an acknowledgement of incapacity. If
the servants are rightly managed, they will not need reproof.
One fact is indisputable, and that is, that incessant scolding
will make the best servants bad, instead of making the
worst good ; ay, and it will make the best temper bad, to
indulge this mistaken habit. My neighbour Aspasia never
fails to entertain me, when T visit her, with a catalogue of
the faults she has to contend with in her servants. She
gives me to understand, that she is an excellent manager
of servants, but that she has unluckily the worst set in
the world to manage. " Now if I had such domestics as
Mrs. — i — ,5> says she, u I would get a great deal more out

LETTER XXV. 1 87

of them than she does. I could do wonders with them ; and
as it is, their mistress is a poor manager. She indulges a
great deal too much, and never reproves at all."

It so happened, that Aspasia procured one of Mrs. ?s

servants; one, too, who had borne an excellent character.
After a week or two of trial, I went to congratulate her on
having succeeded in her wish. I pleased myself as I went
along, with the anticipated good humour of my neighbour,
and hoped I should see at leasf'one pleasant countenance
among her attendants. When I entered the house, the first
person I met was the servant above mentioned, whom I had
often seen in the dwelling of her former mistress. She
looked gloomy and discontented, her appearance was sluttish,
and there was an air of sullenness about her, which betokened
intended resistance. By and by Aspasia came, and her
first words announced the disappointment I was beginning

to anticipate. " Mrs. must be a strange sort of a

manager," observed she, after the first salutations were over.
Cel think the servant I have got from her is, without excep-
tion, the worst I ever had. At first she was tolerable, but
I soon saw her cloven foot, and when I told her that such
behaviour would not do for me, she burst into tears, and
cried like a baby, saying that she had never been used to
scolding, and it would break her heart. I was so provoked
at this, that I could not restrain myself. — e Heart, indeed !'
said I, 'and pray what business have you with a heart? —
are you not my slave ? and cannot I do as I please with

you ? But I suppose Mrs. consulted your feelings, and

made an intimate friend of you. If that is the way in which
she gets a character for good management, she is welcome to
keep it for me. I know too well what belongs to my
own dignity to put up with such sentimental nonsense.*
In short, I won't tell you all my trials with the creature;
but she has been subjected to my usual course of discipline,
and has proved so refractory, that I shall part with her as

138 LETTER XXVI.

soon as possible. Mrs. must never talk to me about

management again," &c.

I will spare you the rest of Aspasia's rant, for truly it
made me uncomfortable for a whole day. She is one of
those self- admirers, who will never allow herself to be sur-
passed in any object of her ambition. It has long been her
dearest wish to be thought a good housewife, and she mis-
takes self-approbation for success. Though her fortune has
been gradually diminishirfg, and her domestic comforts
decreasing under her much vaunted system, she still adheres
to it, and attributes the success of those who pursue a dif-
ferent method, to what she calls good luck. The truth is,
that she expects too much from her servants, in return for
their daily bread and yearly clothing. As their work serves
her to boast of, they must do a great deal, or she cannot keep
up her reputation as a good housewife. With all her powers
of coercion, she cannot get more than a certain quantity of
labour from them; and, as that is not enough for her to
establish a high character for skill in domestic management,
she gives way to spleen and mortification. I will conclude
this letter by asking you to compare Aspasia witli Emilia.

I am ever yours.

LETTER XXVI.

Misery of Discordant Marriages.

My Dear Mary,

Of all the evils attendant on discordant marriages, one of
the most formidable is, the inevitable effect of such exam-
ples on the offspring of ill-assorted unions.

Children are inestimable blessings in happy wedlock ;

LETTER XXVI. 139

but they enhance the miseries of the discordant couple.
With the amiable, they are additional bonds of union ;
but with the contentious, they are sources of discord. I can
scarcely imagine a scene of greater misery, than is daily
exhibited around the fireside of a quarrelsome married pair.
The most minute trifles are sufficient to give a sombre
colouring to the daily intercourse of persons, who should be
living springs of comfort to each other. Parents sit in
moody silence, or burst into open objurgations. Children
cower around the melancholy circle, as if afraid to bring
themselves into notice, lest the collected vials of wrath
should descend upon them. Then there is too often a spirit
of manoeuvring encouraged, among people who find it a
matter of supreme difficulty to keep in favour with their
rulers. Servants exercise a low cunning to gain the good
will of both parties, and children are too apt to imbibe this
contagion from their attendants, probably their companions
also. Even the lisping babe becomes aware, that to appear
fond of one parent, is the surest way to make the other
angry. Thus from infancy the habit of dissimulation is
implanted — that habit which overthrows all that is generous
and noble in the expanding heart. " Mamma won't love
me, if I love papa," was the innocent reply of a child,
when asked if it did not want to see its absent father. The
longer a youthful mind can be kept in ignorance of the
existence of such a passion as hatred, the hetter its chance
of escaping the contamination of moral evil. But when the
passion is in daily and hourly exercise before the develop-
ing faculties of children, they become infected with its
venom by inevitable consequence. It is said that the
offspring of the game cock, inherit turbulence of spirit from
the egg-shell, and contend fiercely for supremacy in the
mother's nest. This is too apt to be the case with the
children of quarrelsome parents; they become adepts in
recrimination and self-justification, before their minds have

190 LETTER XXVI.

been exercised in any useful and profitable train of thought.
If there should unfortunately exist in the united head of a
family, any propensity to contend about rights, these con-
tentions should be scrupulously kept from the children.
But I have seen a fond mother give mental poison to her
child, when she would have shrunk with agony from any
act which she understood to be injurious to its health or
happiness. Social discord is a wide-spreading, deep-rooted
evil : it is the mildew that blights the tender shoots of moral
worth, and nips in the bud the blossoms of contentment.
No family can have room to exercise domestic virtues, when
the fireside harmony is profaned by unholy sacrifices.
Fierce anger, gloomy moroseness, despotism, and its accom-
panying evils, subvert social order, and reverse the decrees
of omnipotent wisdom. I have known a whole family to
be so infected by the contagion of domestic discord, as to
grow up with an utter incapacity of enjoying happiness.
Their minds had been so inured to the habitual discomfits
attendant on their early days, that they could not possess
their souls in peace, under circumstances favourable to its
enjoyment. They were continually suspecting their asso-
ciates of injurious designs, and misconstruing trifling and
unintentional omissions into serious deficiencies of duty.
Their friends were constrained to practice so much minute
circumspection of conduct, that they became weary of their
responsibilities. This weariness of course was discovered,
and drew forth stern reproaches; then followed altercation,
which wrought out its usual consequence, total alienation of
regard. These unfortunate victims to early mismanage-
ment, were wont to complain (with justice) that they had
no friends; and who can maintain a friendship under such
tyrannical requisitions? Unless the courtesies of friendship
are strictly reciprocal, the tie will inevitably be loosened, if
not dissolved.

One of the surest signs of predominant self-love, may be

LETTER XXVI. 191

discerned in that restless fear of not being sufficiently ap-
preciated, which is so common with suspicious people.
When there is a proper degree of humility in the heart, there
will be no outward anxieties respecting the degree of cour-
tesy observed by the world. When I hear people accusing
others of pride, I always set it down as a proof that they
have a great deal themselves. For if they had not expected
a great deal of respectful attention themselves, they would
not have been led to remark the deficiencies of their asso-
ciates. I have sometimes amused myself by remarking the
behaviour of two classes of people brought together by
casualty ; each prepared to accuse the other of pride, be-
cause each was unwilling to render such a measure of atten-
tion as the other exacted. A little self-examination would
have rectified both errors, by discovering the source of
them. Why am I so suspicious of these people ? and why
am [ hurt because they behave haughtily to me ? The
true answer would be, because I think a great deal of my-
self, and claim more respect than these people are willing
to pay !

How many mistakes might be rectified by a little know-
ledge of one's own motives. Self-knowledge is indispensable
to true wisdom. All the information in the world, abstracted
from self, will not aid us in forming a just estimate of our-
selves, without which we cannot possibly be just to others.
How many evils grow out of this species of ignorance ! It
is the true source of conjugal discord, and all its accom-
panying miseries. If every married pair could be brought
to practise self-examination rigidly, there would be an end
of recrimination, which is the fruitful source of discord.
Self-accusation would be substituted in its place, and each
party would find with surprise, that instead of carrying the
war into the enemy's country, they must maintain it at
home, against their own internal enemies. I once knew an
instance of a married pair, who had rendered themselves

192 LETTER XXVi.

obnoxious to the whole circle of their friends and kindred,
by their incessant wrangling. Every meal was attended
with such interruptions to harmony, that even the nearest
family connexions declined partaking their hospitality.
" Better the dinner of herbs, where love is, than the stalled
ox, and hatred therewith" — was remembered and quoted by
all their acquaintance. And truly, it was almost impossible
to avoid touching on some subject of contention. You
might drag the attention of this couple for a moment, as far
as the poles from the subject of debate, and yet they would
force it back again with incredible ingenuity. One gentle-
man who wished to dine with them, bragged that he would
keep the peace by turning the subject of conversation to
Symme's theory of the earth. Accordingly he explained,
with a great deal of interest, the imaginary country within
the excavated poles, and kept on safe ground for ten or
fifteen minutes. He was forced to pause, however, when
he had literally exhausted himself in explanation. The
lady immediately observed with a sigh, that she should like
much to retreat to that country, if she could be assured that
none of her troubles would follow her. She looked so
significantly at her husband, that he could not resist the
appeal. " Oh," said he, u that is the very place I should
go to myself." " Then I should stay at home," answered
the affectionate wife. The gentleman could not resist the
opportunity of saying a good thing, not being at all unwil-
ling to wound their feelings. He said he had heard of the
Irishman's dividing the house with his wife, by giving her
the outside; but that this husband's plan was certainly more
efficient — to divide the earth in the same manner, — leaving
his wife on the outside, while he crept into the snug com-
forts of the interior.

This wife was arrested in her career of folly and wicked-
ness by hearing a sermon upon these words — " If it be possi-
ble, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men."

LETTER XXVI. 193

The preacher enlarged on the possibility of living peaceably,
by showing how self-denial might be practised, so as to force
the most irascible temper to refrain from aggression. The
unhappy wife determined to try this expedient with her
husband. At first she found the task exceedingly difficult.
The habit of self-defence was so strong, that she could not
immediately check the words that rose spontaneously to her
tongue, but her heart was seriously impressed with a sense
of past error, and she resolutely undertook to subject her
tongue to rigid control. In this good resolution she was
aided by the Spirit of God, which was even then, though
unknown to her, at work in her heart. Her husband was
at first surprised, and afterwards pleased, with her amend-
ment. He was not an intemperate man, and his temper
of course was not entirely brutalized. He became aware
that he too had been in fault, and finding the way made
smooth for him, he followed the example of his wife. In
process of time, they became a peaceable, amiable couple,
and are at this present time good Christians and good citi-
zens; as happy in each other as if they had never been
otherwise. Their first child, who, unfortunately, had his
temper formed while their discord was at its crisis, has
grown up very unamiable, and of course unhappy. The
parents are fully sensible that they brought this evil upon
themselves ; therefore they bear it patiently, and do all they
can, not only to amend their eldest born, but to preserve
the others from similar contagion.

It has often occurred to me, while listening to the cavillers
at religion, that a powerful argument in favour of its efficiency
might be drawn from facts of a similar nature to the one I
have just narrated. Has any thing, save Christianity, been
yet discovered, of sufficient power to arrest vice in its mad
career ; and to turn the torrent of evil, when it was sweep-
ing away even the landmarks from the human heart, and
desolating the meager virtues implanted there by nature?
R

194 LETTER XXV r.

Show me an instance of reformation from habitual vice,
wrought by mere human powers, and I will then accede to
the " Omnipotence of Reason," so proudly contended for
by philosophers. But such things cannot be shown, because
they do not exist. I have known instances in the course of
my experience, of amiable, respectable people, falling off
through temptation from their virtuous courses, when they
were not upheld by religion. And I have known instances
where vice has been stopt in its headlong progress, through
the instrumentality of the vital principle of Christianity.

There were once two brothers, to whom I shall give the
names of Marcus and Portius. The first was a strictly
moral man; the last had fallen into dissolute habits, and was
losing fast the respect of all his friends and kindred. Mar-
cus expostulated with his brother, and talked eloquently of
the beauty of virtue as an abstract principle, and the moral
sublimity of an upright character. Both these brothers
were ignorant of vital religion. In process of time, Portius
wasted his substance like the prodigal in Scripture, and
ended a course of riotous living in poverty and neglect.
Meanwhile Marcus arose to prosperity, and enjoyed the
respect of all the moral part of society. He increased his
goods, and determined that his soul should take its ease, and
enjoy the reward of his good conduct. While Portius was
undergoing the agonies of remorse, with scarcely food to
sustain life, Marcus was opening his house to the fashiona-
ble and wealthy, who did him honour by participating in
his prosperity. By and by he became fond of the social
glass, and soon learnt to extend his festive enjoyments to
the daily potation of one bottle, which his companions
affirmed to be the ultimatum of a gentleman. If the recol-
lection of his former advice to Portius on the subject of tem-
perance crossed his mind, it was quieted by the ready
excuse, that Portius was too poor to drink wine, and Marcus
himself was wealthy. His wealth was self-earned, there-

LETTER XXVI. 195

fore he had a right to spend it as he pleased. For a long
time he resisted the temptation to exceed his daily bottle,
and even went so far, as to have his wine decanted into
larger bottles, that he might not exceed the genteel measure.
Presently he became bloated and unhealthy, but who ever
heard of good wine, taken in moderation, disagreeing with
the constitution? While this deterioration of principle was
gradually taking place. Porting was reviving, under the
influence of religious conviction, from a state of almost des-
pairing humiliation. He felt the weight of his sins, and
sought Him who has promised rest to the weary-laden.
There had been no intercourse between the brothers for
many years; as Portius had forsaken friends and kindred
to carry on his vicious practices. At length the repentant
prodigal returned full of rejoicing to the land that gave him
birth. " I will seek ont my dear Marcus," said he, " now
that I am not unworthy to associate with his virtues. We
will live and die together. If he has not found out the way
of truth before, I will show it him, in return for his former
endeavours to lead me aright." Alas ! these reveries were
soon at an end. Portius arrived at his brother's grand house,
and found it full of minions of the law, who were appro-
priating all its gorgeous furniture to rapacious creditors.
Marcus had just breathed his last ; and Portius, unknown
to any present, pressed in to see the bloated and disfigured
corse. "What was the cause of his death?'' asked he.
One of the bystanders whispered, " He died of apoplexy,
the consequence of intemperate habits. He has been a
lover of wine for many years, and seldom took less than two
bottles a day. Poor fellow ! that, and hardened infidelity,
were his greatest faults. To the last he denied the existence
of a God, and said that he had found it very easy to prac-
tice virtue without the aid of religion. * I have always
maintained a good character,' said he, i and have amassed
a good fortune; what more do I need?' " Portius shud-

196 LETTER XXVII.

dered at these words. He waited for the investigation of
his brother's affairs, and learned that all his wealth had
been swallowed up in gradual dissipation. It was Marcus'
custom to talk of his former reputation for sobriety, until
he had lost it so entirely in progressive habits of dissipation,
that even his friends smiled at his self-complacent boastings.
But no one ventured to undeceive him : that would have
been the part of Christian friendship. He died without
having his eyes opened to the error of his ways ; and Por-
tius lived to give ample testimony of the power of religious
principle, over innate propensities or acquired habits of
vice.

Look abroad, and see if there are no Marcuses near us !
Adieu, my dear girl, I am

Ever yours.

LETTER XXYII.

Prevailing Errors in Female Education.
My. Dear Mary,

Women whose lots are cast in the higher walks of life,
have one talent which they may use for the benefit of thou-
sands; I mean influence. It is to be lamented that our
fashionable ladies are far more intent upon misleading than
benefiting their fellow beings, by the use of this talent.
Instead of setting an example of moderation in expense and
luxury, they lavish their wealth upon a thousand useless,
not to say pernicious things. If ladies in the high circles
of life would practise forbearance and economy in their per-
sonal expenses; if they would live plainly, dress unostenta-
tiously, and give their superfluities to charitable institutions,

LETTER XXVII. 197

there would doubtless be a general improvement of the
aspect of things in this our world ; but we see nothing so
praiseworthy in their conduct. The rich have no more to
give away than the poor, for their wants are so exorbitant
that the gifts of providence, however lavish, prove barely
sufficient to gratify them. Could not this evil be amended ?
Suppose our leaders of the ion could be made aware that
extravagant apparel does not make them more attractive in
the eyes of the nice-judging, would they not abate something
from their superfluities, to throw a mite into the Lord's
treasury? Or, is there really so much rational enjoyment
in superabundant decoration, that it cannot be renounced ?
Suppose each female was to enter into a strict calculation
of the expense of some superfluous article, and inquire
seriously of her heart and understanding, whether she could
not be just as happy without it, as with it? This species
of investigation would lead females to form some estimate
of the yearly, monthly, daily cost of their extrinsic decora-
tions. At present, they thoughtlessly follow the multitude
to do evil, or rather, I fear I must say, that they only follow
the beaten track of vanity, into which their mothers took
care to lead them from childhood. Alas ! that the rising
generation should have to endure the accumulated follies of
the by-past age, from the consequences of which so many
are now suffering. But I repeat the assertion, that unless
women of wealth and high station in society will consent to
use their influence to exterminate this evil, there is no know-
ing how far it will advance in another age. Let them but
magnanimously strip ofT their redundant decorations, and
set an example of plainness in apparel; for instance, the
quantity of silk now requisite to make a dress, is said to
be eighteen or twenty yards ; more than half of this is
frittered away in flounces, arranged tier above tier, till they
reach the knee. I would propose to some lady who is high
in station, to resolve on an instantaneous abridgment of
R 2

198 LETTER XXVII.

these decorations. Let her but appear in a dress without
flounces, and declare to her followers and satellites, that she
intends clothing the indigent from the trappings of the
vain, and I doubt not but her example will prove contagious.
But at present, the rich and distinguished come forth so
magnificently equipped, that all the weak and vain are
excited to emulation. They look on, half-admiring, half
envying, and sigh to think that fortune has denied them the
privilege of adorning their perishing bodies with gaudy or
expensive clothing ; and this folly will continue, while
females who have influence refuse to exert it for the im-
provement of their fellow beings. I know that many
would-be modest women, will disclaim the pre-eminence
assigned to them, and will deny that they have sufficient
influence to do this good. But let them try, and let them
examine into the present state of things, and inquire
whether they are not now influencing some of their friends
and acquaintances to follow fashion, or to commit excesses
in extravagance. There are women in the world too, to
whom God has given personal beauty — that most precarious
boon. Suppose, instead of misusing or abusing this gift,
they were to apply it to the purpose of increasing their
influence, and enlarging their means of doing good. And
here again, I must break a lance with the mothers of the
present day. They nurture their beautiful daughters in
vanity, and I am afraid I must say folly, for I can think of
no softer word. Instead of training them to regard perso-
nal charms as a snare, to escape which they must lay up a
double stock of good sense and discretion, they deepen the
pit, and lead their helpless offspring blindfold into its
bosom. Oh, how many have been irreparably lost to all
that is rational and valuable in life, by the incautious vanity
of those whom years should have trained to greater wis-
dom. I do know to a certainty, that a mother may educate
a beautiful daughter, so as to make her all that a discreet,

LETTER XXVII. 199

amiable, unpretending woman should be. It is only pointing
out to her the precarious nature of the gift she possesses.
Only warning her against the snares that will be laid to
entrap her, on her entrance into life. Only cultivating her
mind even more assiduously than if she was deficient in
personal charms, for she has greater need of a strong intel-
lect, to enable her to detect the illusions and spells that will
be cast around her. Tell her in childhood — " You will
probably be handsome when you grow up ; and you will
meet with flatterers who will exaggerate your attractions,
and strive to make you overvalue them. Endeavour to
guard against these snares. Remember how uncertain is the
duration of those charms, which a fever, or a disease of any
other kind, can wither in a day. Think you that beauty
lessens your accountability at the throne of heaven? Think
you that he whose eyes search your heart, will be attracted
by your extrinsic graces? Keep in mind, that pride and
vanity are the sins of your nature, and that both these are
fostered by the possession of beauty, unless it is accompa-
nied with sound sense and discretion. Think, while your
flatterers are sounding praises in your ear, of that honest
hour when you will be compelled to surrender these transi-
tory advantages — the hour of death. How will you feel,
when the last pangs of nature rack your dissolving taber-
nacle, if you have to look back upon a life misspent in folly
and vanity ?7;

With such representations as these, frequently and
honestly made, the greatest beauty may be preserved from
the pervading contagion of vanity. But this is far different
from the plan of most American mothers. They are them-
selves intoxicated with reflected vanity. Every act of
maternal kindness, is mingled with the poison of adulation.
The expanding belle sees herself the object of unlimited
attention. Every hour brings an accession to her self-import-
ance. She finds herself exalted above her plain or homely

^00 LETTER XXVn.

sisters or companions. Is it not perfectly natural that she
should set an undue value upon that which her parents
think of such importance? and is it not also evident, that if
those parents were to speak rationally before her, and set
beauty in its proper place in their own estimation, that she
would spontaneously imbibe their opinions, and make up
her own judgment accordingly ? Affectionate parents can
make their children believe whatever truths they please to
inculcate.

A handsome woman, without vanity or inordinate preten-
sions, will (if she is otherwise amiable) acquire influence in
society unconsciously to herself. Beauty finds an advocate
in almost every bosom, when accompanied with those moral
and intellectual qualities which are essential to excellence.
But when alloyed with [affectation and self-esteem, it only
meets the applause of foolish people. I have known so
many instances, in which personal beauty has proved a
snare to its possessor, that I own I do not covet it for those
I love. There are so many things to fear, where this pre-
carious boon of nature is overvalued, that life is deprived of
half its most innocent pleasures. Sickness, and above all,
old age, with many other things to tedious to mention, are
so many sources of disquietude to the self-important belle.
And when she marries, she either continues to consider her-
self an idol to be worshipped, instead of a rational compan-
ion to be esteemed ; or she sinks into melancholy moping,
from the disappointment of her ill-founded hopes of happi-
ness. Having always considered herself a creature above
the common grade of humanity — a vessel made of the por-
celain clay of the earth, and not intended for ordinary uses,
— her mind is in a state of unnatural inflation. She cannot
sink to her own level, but remains buoyed up on the waves
of vanity, until she is fairly wrecked against that well-known
rock called vexation of spirit. Oh, how many bitter drops
do parents infuse into the cup of earthly prosperity, ere it is

LETTER XXVII. 201

presented to the lips of their offspring, by fostering qualities
which should be sedulously repressed, and neglecting to
cultivate those on which the rational enjoyment of life de-
pends. Women should be formed from the cradle, for the
fulfilment of their appointed duties. The term usually
allotted to female education, is too brief at best, even sup-
posing that nothing but useful things were taught. Can it
then be wonderful that the sex prove unfitted for the
rational business of life, when they spend the short season
of youth in acquiring what they have to forget or unlearn in
after years ? Mothers strangely neglect instructing their
daughters in domestic arts and domestic economy. Your
mother, my dear Mary, must be excepted from this censure.
I know you are, even now, expert in the culinary art, and
in every possible use of the needle and scissors. I remember
her telling me that you rose with the dawn, and overlooked
every department of household management. That you
strained the milk, weighed the butter, measured the meal
and flour, — nay, (do not blush my dear girl,) that you even
fed the fowls and fattening pigs with your own delicate
hands. I know too, that the same hands touch the piano
with taste for the amusement of a friend, and wield the pen-
cil for your pastime. I am aware too, that you keep regular
accounts of all your expenditure, and often deny yourself )
that you may aid the good cause.

These are but your plain and obvious duties, my dear
girl, and I do not mention them as any thing unusually
praiseworthy. Were you to do less, you would infallibly
incur the censure of

Your own and your mother's friend.

( 202 )

LETTER XXVIII.

Domestic Management.

My Dear Mary,

As others besides yourself may read the hints I am now
throwing together for your benefit, I will consider at greater
length, the subject of domestic management.

I know it is unnecessary to exhort you to regard in an
especial manner the comfort of your domestics ; but when I
look around, and see the abuses sanctioned by custom in our
state of society, I tremble for the future responsibility of my
countrymen and women. Slavery is indeed a fearful evil;
a canker in the bud of our national prosperity ; a bitter
drop in the cup of domestic felicity. But, like all other
evils, it admits of mitigation. It is surely the part of wisdom
to apply such remedies as our situation affords, to this great
and obvious impediment to our national and individual hap-
piness. I blush for my countrymen and their female coad-
jutors, when I see instances of thoughtless inattention, or
cruel neglect, of the comfort of our helpless fellow beings.
God has pleased to suffer this state of things among us, but
I shudder to think how few are sensible of the responsibility
they incur, by holding their fellow creatures in abject and
despotic subjection. Until heavenly Mercy sees fit to
remove this our great national evil, it surely becomes our
duty to consider the subject prayerfully, in all its bearings.
It is true, we are no way to blame for this state of things.
We may rank this misfortune among the tender mercies of
our parent country, who inflicted it upon us, to answer her
own interested ends. But we should not plunge into an
abyss, because we find ourselves standing on its brink; nor
should we rashly incur the penalty of a violated law, because

LETTER XXVIII. 203

we are placed in circumstances which make it hard to
observe that law strictly.

But of the consequences arising from slavery, one of the
most pernicious and least noticed, is its effect on the female
temper. I acknowledge it is hard to bear with patience the
trials incident to domestic life in Virginia, but I sincerely
wish my countrywomen were aware, that they may and
must be borne. The obligation to bear them is imperative,
because it involves the eternal happiness of every individual.
Awful indeed will be the condition of those slave-holders,
who have abused the trust reposed in them, and ill-treated
the creatures committed to their charge. I know cruelty to
slaves is not now as common as it has been. The progress
of civilization, and above all, of gospel light, has taught
many people their duty on this momentous subject. But
alas ! I am forced to acknowledge, that I am acquainted
with some strong cases in which this abuse is still tolerated
in society. It is not very long since I detected a young and
beautiful female in inflicting corporal chastisement with her
own hands, and in severe measure, upon a woman older by
many years than herself. " Tell it not in Gath J" lest it
give our maligners just occasion to cast further and more
direful aspersions upon us. But I trust these instances are
rare, and public opinion throws immeasurable obloquy upon
them. But the minor evils most common among us, are
unfortunately of a nature to pass without observation or
censure. They are done in a corner, and besides are done
so generally, that custom has cast a veil over them, and
almost sanctioned their continuance. How common is it
for a mistress of a family to restrain, in a manner bordering
on cruelty, the poor abject dependant upon her authority.
It is easy enough to point out the master error, which occa-
sions these domestic afflictions. The habit of despotism is
formed almost in infancy. The child is allowed to tyrannize
over the unfortunate menial appointed to gratify its wants.

204 LETTER XXVIII.

Parents allow this abuse of power, without being aware of
its fatal tendency. Self-will is fostered from the very cradle,
and becomes, in after life, the only rule of exaction from the
wretched beings who are trained to minister to this over-
mastering sin. " You are to do this because I will it" is
the dictim of the tyrant. Instead of training servants to do
the will of God, they are forced to do the will of their
earthly masters, even when that will is openly opposed to
the divine laws. Are not our servants compelled by our
authority to break the Sabbath? Do we not require services
from them on that day, in open violation of the spirit of the
fourth commandment ? Do we not daily put strong tempta-
tion in their way, to break almost all the laws of the
Supreme Being ? The very homage that we exact from
these forlorn and helpless beings, occasions a breach of the
two first commandments ; for the implicit obedience and
abject submission we require, must perforce impel them to
violate the spirit of these commands. Again the incessant
provocation heaped upon their undisciplined tempers, too
often forces them to take the holy name of God in vain ;
and if this is done in our presence, we think more of the
disrespect offered to our persons, than the awful guilt com-
mitted in the sight of God. I do not make this assertion
without sufficient warrant. A professor once reproved his
servant in my presence, for being guilty of using unholy
language before his earthly master, while not a word was
said of the still greater offence committed against the unseen
Jehovah.

To proceed regularly with this examination. — Do mas-
ters enforce the holy law of obedience to parents, among
their servants? I greatly fear not. They care little how
these wretched people perform their relative duties, if the
paramount one of obedience to their master is duly per-
formed. They even sanction neglect and undutifulness to
parents, by utterly omitting to train the children of their

LETTER XXVIII. 205

slaves in these moral observances. The common vice of
theft is almost inculcated, by putting temptation in their
way, and denying to the natural cravings of appetite, all but
a pittance of coarse nutriment. How often does the attend-
ant on a well supplied table, see dainties swallowed by his
luxurious master, almost to surfeit or satiety, without sharing
any but the most essential aliment ? Can it be wonderful, that
he should gratify his excited appetites clandestinely ? Again,
we may be said to prompt the breach of the seventh com-
mandment, by our indifference in maintaining the conjugal
union among our servants : husband and wife are too often
separated for very inadequate causes. Perhaps a momentary
pique against one party, occasions the irrevocable dissolution
of a union which ought to be held sacred among all condi-
tions of mankind. It may be plead in extenuation, that
these people have not a proper value for such moral obliga-
tions. But have we laboured to give it them ? — have we
scrupulously instructed them in the nature of these duties?
If not, we have no right to complain of their being disre-
garded. We cannot expect our domestics not to covet their
neighbour's goods, when we take care to display our abun-
dance to their eyes, without gratifying even their most
imperious wants. Nor can we wonder that the virtue of
truth is so little regarded among them. The nature of the
training they receive from infancy, tends directly to the
formation of habits of deceit and falsehood. They are
driven to exert all their inherent cunning to avoid some of
the numberless penalties we inflict upon them. If we give
them no higher motive for virtue than the hope of pleasing
a capricious despot, whose will changes oftener than they
can be prepared to gratify it, how can we expect any sort
of excellence from them ? While the fear of corporal punish-
ment is their only incentive to obedience, we must not
wonder at their contrivances to evade our arbitrary exac-
tions. All that cunning can prompt, and a total disregard
S

206 LETTER XXVIII.

of principle can accomplish, will be put in force against their
legitimate tyrants.

But the daily and hourly indulgence of peevishness and
irritability of temper towards these people, is the cause of
much misery in the world. Slaves cannot resist any sort
of oppression. The domestic circle is too often a scene of
self-indulgence, which should put to shame the greatest lati-
tudinarian in morals. All the concentrated gall of an
imbittered temper is poured forth without restraint, for the
inmates of the domestic sanctuary are helpless sufferers,
who rather provoke than repel the most tyrannical aggres-
sions. Children learn to nourish, instead of subduing self-
will ; for the menials of the nursery dare not resist its des-
potism. Often does a gray head endure the violence of
childish wrath, without redress. But the most deadly of all
pernicious habits, is that of putting young slaves to be com-
panions of young children. The infant despot enforces
his lawless authority over his allotted victim, and thus
encourages all the most malignant vices of his nature. Oh,
that I had eloquence enough to persuade the mothers of
Virginia, to rescue their beloved offspring from this terrific
evil. Let them keep their children from this contagion,
and never leave them in the power of their slaves. It is
very easy to inculcate a proper way of thinking on this sub-
ject. Children should be made sensible of the unfortunate
situation of this portion of their fellow beings. They should
never be allowed to dictate in any thing themselves. Their
parents should direct the requisite degree of superintendence
on their offspring, and this should be the least degree possi-
ble. Mothers should always dress and undress their own
children, unless they chance to have really conscientious and
well-principled servants, such as I have sometimes seen.
Children should be taught to wait upon each other, as soon
as they are old enough to give the requisite assistance recip-
rocally. A peremptory order should never be given by a

LETTER XXVIII. 207

child to a slave; on the contrary, the most scrupulous
politeness should be exacted from the younger members of
the family, towards the grown servants. All familiarity
should be prohibited, but at the same time the reasons
of this prohibition should be made manifest. " ?Tis not
because they are slaves, (should be said,) but because they
are uneducated, unprincipled people, that you are instructed
to avoid them. You are kept away for the same reason
from dissolute, unprincipled white people. Children are apt
to catch bad habits ; therefore, while you are a child, I must
keep you from bad examples. But you must pity these peo-
ple while you avoid them. It is not their fault, but their
misfortune, that they have not been instructed as you have
in morals and religion. Pity them, therefore, and do all you
canto promote their comfort and happiness; but at your
time of life, you should associate with people who can
improve you, not with those who would cause you to fall off
from the improvement you have already acquired." Such
language would have the desired effect upon children.
They should also be encouraged to contribute their little
mite towards the comfort of the dependants of the family :
the old and destitute — the sick and helpless. Such offices
enlarge the heart, and inculcate humanity. It is a good
practice in a family of children, to keep them during
their leisure hours, at work for the infants and the old peo-
ple among the slaves. Parents should scrupulously avoid
reproving their servants before children, unless they can do
it with proper solemnity and self-command. It is grievous
to think how many female tempers are destroyed, by
indulging their acrid humours, where they can be indulged
with impunity. I greatly fear that our national misfortune
has sent many an accountable soul to its last audit, with a
weight of crime that never could be cancelled.

It is too true, that women allow themselves to be fretted
aX trifles; that they are prone to fall into the pernicious

208 LETTER XXVIII.

habit of suffering their tempers to blaze out on every occa-
sion that can elicit provocation. This incessant fever of
the soul wears out the constitution, and furrows the face
with wrinkles before the meridian of life is attained. Ill-
temper, I regret it, is the scourge of woman ! There are so
many modes of self-indulgence emanating from that source,
that the moralist can scarcely enumerate them. Peevish-
ness, impatience, passion, suspicion, all have alternate
sway; and sometimes envy, that malignant gnome, whose
influence is deadly to the benign and social affections, —
finds admittance through the turbid waters of domestic strife.
I will not speak of jealousy, save to remark, that it is the
deadliest foe to peace that ever broke from the pit where
human vices are nurtured. Oh, that women would listen to
the voice of warning, and turn their undivided energies
against their bosom sins. The author of all good has placed
them in retirement, let them not pollute the sanctuary chosen
to shield them from a dangerous world, with evils sufficient
to destroy the very germ of happiness for ever. Small
indeed, are the beginnings of that potent instrument of
misery ; but habit strengthens every vice, and brings the
weakest, in time, to an equality with the most powerful.
Impatience of temper is usually considered a trifling evil.
I once heard a lady assert, that her temper was not bad, it
was only impatient, and she did not think that defect very
important; but alas! in this instance, as in many others,
she circumscribed her means of usefulness and happiness,
by indulging what might soon have been conquered by
steady resistance. Peevishness is also slightly regarded.
They say it is the natural attendant of sickness, and must be
excused; but while reason endures, it should be found at its
post. It should be put forth against the errors existing in
the character. How much are human sufferings aggravated
by peevishness; and how miserable is the condition of those
who are doomed to watch by the sick bed of a peevish per-

LETTER XXIX. 209

son ! Depend on it, an ill-temper is one of the devils whose
name is legion.

I once heard of a minister of the gospel, who married a
bad-tempered woman on purpose to try himself. It was
indeed a Roman Catholic penance, or rather it resembled
the tortures that the Fakirs of India inflict on themselves in
fanatical frenzy. An undisciplined temper is a general evil
to all within its reach, as well as its possessor. It is a fruit-
ful source of misery to that small, quiet circle, where, but
for it, the dove of peace might build her nest. I fear the
women of Virginia are rather remarkable for this defect ;
because, as I have already admitted, their peculiar circum-
stances bring abundant provocations to the domestic sanc-
tuary. But their merit will be the greater, when they have
successfully combatted these disadvantages. Let them but
call in religion, the author of peace, to their aid, and I can
faithfully promise them the victory in every conflict.
Believe me, the instrument is not too strong for the occa-
sion. If inferior agents are found inadequate to effect a
purposed good, surely it is the part of wisdom to resort to
others that cannot fail to prove efficient. Religion is the
master spring of human virtue, let it be therefore employed
to produce the paramount blessing of a good temper.

I remain ever yours.

LETTER XXIX.

Submission to the Divine Will.

My Dear Mary,

It is one thing to know the will of God, and another thing
to do that will. The essential spirit of Christianity is
included in this one sentence — " Thy will be done." A&
s 2

210 LETTER XXIX.

the natural man owns no rule of action but his own will,
so does the Christian acknowledge none but the will of his
Maker. And yet true resignation is the hardest duty to
perform that has ever fallen to the lot of man. He is
always labouring at absolute submission, but when he has
attained it in one instance, he finds the difficulty as great on
the next occasion. Other lessons, when once learnt, remain
with us; but this must be learnt anew whenever it is to be
practised. And here, Mary, it gratifies me to be able to
give honest, well-merited praise to the female sex. Though
their sensibilities are more tender than those of men, they
certainly resign themselves to the will of God with truer
and more heartfelt submission. Religion, the master teacher
of every virtue, is absolutely essential in this case. She has
no auxiliary here; no artful imitator, or skilful substitute.
Pride, it is true, wears her semblance boldly without ; but
a glance at the internal state reveals the utter incapacity of
this agent. Yet is its claim often asserted, while the aching
heart denies its validity. How often do we see the haughty
spirit enduring, like the Indian at the stakp, with unblanched
cheek and changeless eye, the agonies which fill the bosom
with wild commotion. The proud man says he is resigned,
while every fibre of his physical system thrills responsively
to the unmitigated sorrows of his heart. The Christian
says he is resigned, while the undried tear is on his cheek,
for God has spoken peace to his soul, and the inward storm
of grief has subsided. All is calm within him, and the
consolations of religion are already shedding their sunshine
on the departing clouds of sorrow. Unqualified submission
to God is imperatively required of his people. Faith is
imperfect and inefficient, unless accompanied by this sub-
mission. The author of our being has promised, that all
things shall work together for our good, if we surrender our-
selves entirely to his will. This promise does not imply an
exemption from trouble; it only promises that trouble shall

LETTER XXIX. 211

be overruled for our benefit, if we stand still and see the
salvation of God.

Many weak Christians are found wanting in the hour of
tribulation, from inability to surrender themselves as they
are required to do. They drop daily from their tongues
the comprehensive sentence — " Thy will be done," with-
out having even considered its full, impressive import.
They daily promise to do his will, without the ability, or
perhaps the sincere desire to fulfil their promise. But let
us reflect that these four monosyllables' express the most
exalted act of faith, and the most comprehensive promise of
unqualified obedience. When we repeat this sentence we
are virtually offering to give up our dearest possessions, if
his will should require them — (and who can foresee his
requisitions?) — We are solemnly renouncing all right to
think, or act, or even to feel for ourselves. In short, what-
ever may have been our views, plans, or wishes, as relate
to worldly things, we are renouncing all for the will of God.
There are some paradoxes in Christianity, but, blessed be
our Father, there are no contradictions. When we are
required to surrender our will, we are made free from the
bondage of sin, and enabled to rejoice in the liberty pur-
chased for us by Christ. To be able to do the will of God,
is freedom in itself; for until ive can do his will, we are the
slaves of sin. God puts this acknowledgment of submission
in our mouths, that we may fully understand our duty, and
earnestly require divine aid in performing it. "Enable me
to do thy will," should be our frequent and fervent petition;
but oh ! is it not lamentable to reflect, how often the Lord's
prayer is repeated, without the smallest weight or con-
sideration being attached to this comprehensive clause !

One of the first and strongest evidences of true conversion
is, a desire to know and do God's will. St. Paul exclaimed,
" Lord, what wilt thou have me do ?" and the jailor in-
quired, " What shall I do to be saved ?" These were

212 LETTER XXIX.

signs that the new converts were not only willing, but
desirous to give up self-government, and resign themselves
implicitly to God. The example of the apostle is indeed
striking. We behold him as a Pharisee, fiery, impetuoas,
cruel, and self-willed : we see him as a Christian convert,
anxious to surrender his independence, and become the
submissive servant of the Lord. And here let us consider
die meaning of a term in very common use, the original
sense of which seems to have been forgotten. Devotion
implies an entire surrender of all that constitutes the ac-
countable being to the great Master of the universe. To
devote oneself, means to give up one's very being to another ;
but we hear sometimes of the devotion of persons, who have
not made this surrender. True devotion pledges the indi-
vidual to an unqualified submission of his will to God. It
does not consist in good works or prayers, and any specific
act of duty; but it demands firmness and consistency in
following the known path of duty, however repugnant or
distasteful it may be to the inclination. It implies self-
denial, and energy in the performance of all known require-
ments. It always comprehends entire submission to such
adverse events as God may please to send. If he chooses
to deny a long sought and ardently desired blessing — " his
will must be done" cheerfully and without murmuring.
Some minds have a strong bias towards particular duties,
and are dull and cold at others ; but we are required to do
with all our might, what is set before us. There is more
real devotion in treading quickly and contentedly, the
unostentatious path of plain, every-day duty, than in
launching forth in some new and conspicuous way that we
have fashioned for ourselves. When the will is indeed
devoted without reservation to its lawful ruler, the Holy
Ghost visits the heart in his most precious character of com-
forter. We then see many things that were before hidden
from our view.

LETTER XXIX. 2J3

We remark with wonder, the many strange ways by
which God accomplishes his ends with us. His thoughts
are not as our thoughts, nor can we possibly discover his
intentions by any visible sign. But we walk by faith, and
not by sight, therefore we must not expect to be made
acquainted with what the Lord intends to do for us. Infidels
assert, that it is strange that God should afflict his people,
when he has omnipotent power, and can make all things
pleasant to them ; but these short sighted reasoners forget
that this world is but a passing scene, intended as a proba-
tionary state. If the creatures of God were to be supremely
happy here, they would be unwilling to be removed to
" It is hard and cruel that these people should be taken
away from happiness :" so that even unbelievers are forced
another state. The opposers of Christianity would then say,
to acknowledge the fitness and sufficiency of the present
plan. But the view that the true Christian takes of God,
is quite satisfactory to his heart and understanding. He has
been shown that he is vile himself, and when tribulation
comes, he sees in Christ a remedy for this vileness. Afflic-
tions are often appointed to save us from adding guilt to
misery, by bringing them on ourselves. Often, when the
Christian is about to forget himself in presperity and do
some wrong thing, the rod is laid smartly on him, so as to
disappoint his plan of iniquity. He falls at first into deep
sorrow, and says, "Why is it thus?" But he soon discovers
the hidden meaning of this dispensation, and blesses his
Father that he has not been allowed to sin. Any thing is
better for the true Christian, than that he should be left to
himself when temptation is strong. We read of miracles
ascribed, by erring superstition, to the fragments of the
cross on which the Redeemer suffered : but when we look
on the blessed results of affliction, the only true relic of
that cross, we see a yet greater work performed. We are
ready to declare our submission to Christ j but if he was

214 LETTER XXIX.

not to take from us many things that he requires us to
surrender, we should find it impossible to perform our
promises. Self-love is a subtle deceiver. Often do we
feel resigned to dispensations immediately from God ; but
when they come from the world, we are apt to be unruly,
forgetting that he appoints these as well as the others.

We sometimes claim merit for our obedience, when it
is voluntary, the thing being perfectly agreeable to our
inclinations. But it is in crossing our own desires, that
our love, which is the surest test of obedience, is fully
proved. How often do self-complacent Christians commit
the crime, for which Ananias and Sapphira were doomed
to death. They pretend to give up all their will, and
they retain the greater part of it; that is to say, they pro-
mise implicit resignation, and yet hold fast with a tenacious
grasp, many things that they are required to surrender.
"Unless a man forsake all that he hath, he cannot be my
disciple," is the declaration of our Lord himself. In the
early days of Christianity this was literally fulfilled. The
disciples quitted their friends, family, employment, and
country, to follow their Master. Christians of the present
day have only to forsake their will. This must be surren-
dered without reservation, before we can conscientiously
say, " Thy will be done." I hope, my dear Mary, that
you will hereafter repeat this sentence with a better and
fuller comprehension of its import. Women, as I have
already said, are apt scholars in the school of adversity, and
it is one of the blessed advantages of their state of subor-
dination in society, that they are often required to surrender
their will to others. None but weak women are self-willed.
The very first sign of moral and intellectual improvement
in the sex, is a readiness to give up what is generally dear
to human beings — their own will and wishes. May you be
eminent in the practice of this virtue, my dear girl ; I can
desire nothing better for you, as

Your true friend.

( 215 )

LETTER XXX.

Conclusion.

My Dear Mary,

I have endeavoured faithfully, to point out to you the
relative duties of your sex, in the sphere which they fill by
omnipotent decree. A quiet submission to the state of sub-
ordination ordained by heavenly wisdom, will ensure them
as great a portion of happiness as human nature is capable
of attaining. I never desire to see either a general or an
individual struggle for female supremacy, nor even for per-
fect equality. Women are happiest and most respectable
just where Providence has placed them. The better they
understand, and the closer they adhere to this providential
allotment, the more real peace they will enjoy. All devia-
tions from the straight path of duty, under whatever pretext
they may be made, must terminate in misery. I never
knew an instance of domestic happiness, or even pecuniary
success, where the female head usurped dominion over her
lawful ruler. Even where the preponderance of understand-
ing is on the woman's side, her government cannot be pros-
perous, because she is violating Scripture law, in assuming
supreme power. It will always be found, that strict
adherence to the humblest and most adverse path of duty,
will produce happier results than the most promising and
plausible deviation from the declared will of God.

I had rather see a friend of mine practising rigid obe-
dience to a husband who was obviously incompetent to make
a judicious ruler, than to hear her applauded for assuming
the reigns of government into her own hands, because the
whole world acknowledged her superiority. This much I
have elsewhere declared, I believe.
I ask you, my dear girl, to attend particularly to my

216 LETTER XXX.

injunctions on the subject of temper. Too many persons
overlook this quality as an inferior consideration; but when
we see how great a portion of human misery is daily
resulting from this source, we surely cannot be excusable in
neglecting it. Meekness of temper may be acquired by the
most turbulent spirit; for it is one of the most prominent
Christian graces; and every child who reads the Bible
knows how those graces are to be obtained. Many people
say, that a Virginia housewife is compelled to a high-spirited
demeanour in the exercise of her arduous prerogatives.
There never was a greater or a more dangerous error. Gen-
tleness is perfectly compatible with firmness; and I know
by experience, that both these qualities are indispensable in
ruling a Virginia household.

The peculiar characteristics of the domestics over whom
they bear sway, demands a perfect exercise of self-command
in the ruler. Self-government is more especially necessary
to those who manage servants of this description, than to
any other species of potentate in the world. Scolding
effectually destroys domestic peace, and it effectuality dis-
qualifies a woman for governing her family. There never
was, and there never will be an instance of successful
management, where this expedient is resorted to by female
rulers. And yet many sensible women fall into the habit
for want of a little patience in the beginning, and continue
in it for want of a little vigorous self-exertion; and what is
worse, they palliate their error, and mislead others into
supposing it absolutely unavoidable.

Many persons persist in faults of which they must be
inwardly conscious, because they want resolution to break
the fetters of habit. ,Some misguided people imagine that a
high tone of command, and a spirited exercise of power, are
becoming in the head of a family. Those who covet dis-
tinction, will attract attention by making a fuss. They
think they will be overlooked in the quiet nook of domestic

LETTER XXX. 217

privacy, unless they make a noise to draw the attention
of competent judges of their merits. But the quiet stream
bears as great a volume of water to the ocean as the earth-
quaking cataract; and woman, in silent and unostentatious
retirement, may send upwards the costly incense of her
heart to the Author of her being, with more certainty of
acceptance, than when she is swept round in a vortex of
worldly pursuits.

I would wish you, therefore, to prefer retirement as most
favourable to the culture of feminine graces ; but should
your lot be cast among the high stationed females of our land,
remember the prerogatives of your sex. These may be
enjoyed by all who desire them. The world may be kept
out of your heart by devotion, even when you live in a
crowd, and it will rind entrance into an unguarded heart in
a desart or an hermitage. Worldly thoughts and passions
abound every where, nor can they be shut out by the mere
drawing a curtain, or shutting a door. They are the chosen
and abiding inmates of many hearts, and they are not to be
banished by secluding the person from company.

But these are favoured individuals, whose principles have
been tested by an intercourse with mixed society; who have
possessed their souls in peace amid the hurry and bustle of
busy life. These favourites of heaven have shed the incense
of their pure thoughts over the corrupt atmosphere of fashion
and dissipation, and kept themselves unspotted from the
world in the very centre of its seductions. And they have
done this by asserting their sexual prerogatives. They have
rejected power, for they have no scriptural right to it. They
have yielded obedience where it was due, though they might
have thrown off its obligations. They have shunned the
glare of publicity, because they loved to shrink into conge-
nial obscurity. They have used their advantages without
abusing them, and steadily refused to unsex themselves,
Ebough opportunities have offered for the attainment of
T

218 LETTER XXX.

invidious notoriety. At the same time their own quiet,
unobtrusive duties have been rigorously fulfilled : The
obligations of charity, coextensive as the benevolence of their
hearts — the sweet courtesies of social life — the gentle inter-
ference with angry spirits for the purposes of peace-making
— the secret prayer — the deep and faithful self-inspection
— the meek surrender of all contested privileges — the single-
hearted efforts to promote the glory of God, and cultivate
good will among men. These indeed are feminine pursuits,
and their sweet incense rises to heaven. Compare the
characteristics here mentioned as exclusively feminine, with
such as many of the sex love to appropriate to themselves :
the admiration arising from distinction in fashionable life, —
the cultivation of accomplishments solely calculated for
display, — the enervating pursuit of sentimental frivolity, or
the unbounded love of dissipation, — novel reading, with all
its seductive accompaniments. In short, a volume would
not suffice to enumerate the mistakes prevailing on the
subject of female character and manners.

Little thought is wasted by mothers upon the future
destinies of their daughters. They encourage undefined
hopes of their success in life without any distinct preparation
for specific duties. They wish them to be courted and
admired in youth, and comfortably settled in life with good
fortunes. This last consideration is paramount to every
other. They will lead them to encourage rich lovers, with-
out much caring for their mental qualities. Wealth covers
as great a multitude of sins from worldly eyes, as charity
does in the estimate of Christian virtues. When girls are
married, their household establishments and equipages are
objects of primary importance. Indeed, the same false
estimate of human happiness seems to prevail throughout
life, and many people die without having discovered that
they have lived for nothing; that they have not enjoyed a
single real good in existence.

LETTER XXX. 219

In the characters I have sketched as illustrations of my
observations, you will find many real traits of human nature,
as they prevail collectively, not individually. Many of my
strongest warnings are drawn from a faithful recollection of
early errors of my own, which grace has happily enabled
me to correct. I have ever deemed it an imperative
Christian duty to expose candidly to our friends the mistakes
of our own conduct. This is the proper use of experience.
We should not be ashamed to acknowledge what we have
been, because Christianity teaches us that all are radically
bad; neither should we be backward in proclaiming the
triumphs of that grace, which we profess to believe universal
in its application to the errors of humanity.

For my own part, I hesitate not to declare, that I owe
the possession of every trait, which approximates towards
virtue, to the influence of Christianity on my renewed heart.
I had many things from nature which were called good,
before 1 knew what real goodness was. Since conversion
has opened my eyes, I see every thing through a new
medium, and have learned to form an entirely new estimate
of human worth. For this unmerited mercy, I cannot suffi-
ciently glorify the Being from whom I have received it.
My thoughts flow forth in intense desire to promote his
glory. My feelings glow with ardent aspirations after higher
attainments in grace.

Often, in the silent watches of the night, do I ask my heart,
if there is no possible mode by which its overflowing grati-
tude for divine mercy can be expressed ? It sometimes
answers with promptings which tend to a public declaration
of the individual mercies I have received. I dare not dis-
obey these warnings of the Spirit. Let the cold in heart
stigmatize me as an enthusiast, and the mere worldling
attribute my conduct to carnal motives, still there is an
Inward evidence that my impulses come from above. To

220 LETTER XXX.

that I have yielded in taking up my pen in behalf of my
sex, and of that religion to which I owe every thing.

Let it not be thought that I have departed from my own
rules of feminine propriety, in thus braving the ordeal of
public opinion, as an author. My own experience has been
peculiar, and the motive which prompts my present under-
taking is one which I dare not resist, though it is at variance
with every feminine feeling of my nature. In the service
of religion we may admit the innovation of established rules.
I appeal to those who, like me, owe every moment of peace,
every feeling of virtue, and every hope of future bliss, to
religion, for their support, under the censures of the fasti-
dious, and the sneers of criticism, to their sympathy — to
their true Christian charity — to their unprejudiced judgments
do I surrender myself unfearingiy in this world, and to the
great Author of my salvation in the world to come.

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